Zephyr
by Zoe Elizabeth
Summary: CHAPTER 13 Now Up! Hermione is a professor at Hogwarts. Her past with Severus is long buried, until a guest shows up at Hogwarts and turns her life upside down. More summary inside. HGSS [R]
1. Default Chapter

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling.  What you don't recognize belongs to me.  No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Rating:** R [For adult content]

**Summary**: Hermione is a Professor at Hogwarts and has been for a few years. Her past with a certain Potions Master is buried behind her as she wills herself to move on, until the arrival of an unexpected guest shows up at Hogwarts and turns her world upside down. 

What was in that letter that arrived so mysteriously the morning after Severus first told her he loved her those years ago? Did it have anything to do with his spurning her, or did he really not love her at all? Hermione promised herself she'd leave the past behind and move on, but when the answers came seeking her out, she is determined to find out what really happened those years ago that turned Severus away from her. 

But will finding out rekindle a flame long put out, or will it only make things worse for her…. 

********

The Morning After   
  


The rolling storm clouds rained softly against the thick windowpane of the low corner room at the back of Hogwarts castle. It hovered forebodingly above the puddled grounds darkening the moods of those safe within the castle walls; all except two. 

Against the thick, corner windowpane tinkled the soft remnant raindrops of the defeated storm and beyond its surface, inside the warm dungeon room, lay two stilled figures. Overcome by their previous lovemaking, they lay contentedly in each other's arms with nothing but the warmth of their bodies to keep them warm.   
  
The embers of the gently crackling hearth had long been reduced to a dull red. Severus was not used to this kind of heat, or any kind of heat. He was more accustomed to the dark cold ambiance of his quarters as he usually spent them every night. But last night was not a typical night.   
  
Next to the awake figure lay a visiting presence to the usually empty room. Deep in her sleep and contentment, she lay motionless. She had been the object of his constant rumination each night before he went to bed for the past couple of months, and now she lay there before him, flesh, blood, and all. Yet he could not bring himself to sleep. 

The fear of it all being a dream when he woke the next morning was too much for him to bear. As bleak as he always had been, his dignity had been pushed aside and the inured persona he had masked for so long did not matter anymore. He finally had her in his arms. The unusual sensation that surged through his veins when he smelled her citrus scented body next to his gripped him by the gut and told him to never let go.   
  
He felt unusual. It was quite the fright for him for he almost felt like jumping out of bed and screaming at the top of his lungs that it was going to be a beautiful morning. He suppressed the slight grin eager to plaster itself across his gaunt face as he was reminded of how screwed up he would have to be to do such a thing.

Severus studied his lover's features, playfully connecting the russet freckles mapped out across her face. He loved her face; he loved staring at her. Her lips slightly apart, he saw the soft red tip of her tongue sticking out and he felt the urge to taste it once more. He felt the warm wisps of air she breathed against his long crooked nose while his sober eyes gazed with rapt fascination over her freckled face, though his sunken features held an expression far less immersed than what he truly felt.

Severus ran his fingers up and down her arm as his thoughts wandered to the sleeping figure beside him. He loved this woman. As hard as he tried to hold his feelings back and push her away, she tore down every wall he put up and pushed her way into his life. She was annoying like that, he thought amusedly to himself. But all amusing thoughts left him immediately when he was forced to think through the trifling situation he placed himself in.   
  
"Oh for Slytherin's sake," he muttered to himself as he massaged his temples and rubbed his eyes. "If Albus walked in here and saw you like this, you'd lose more than your job, you fool."   
  
'Worse,' he thought, 'what if Minerva walked in instead?' He quickly dismissed such thoughts for he knew very well what she would do to him if she walked in on him curled nakedly around her Head Girl, and that thought was not too comforting. He also didn't like the idea of her seeing him naked. He shuddered inwardly and cursed under his breath. He stretched his arms out and rubbed his eyes gently before running them through his hair.   
  
He felt a passing zephyr through the cracked window, and quivered as it sent shivers down his hunched spine. He smiled at the touch of the cool breeze on his skin before it left him forever. It reminded him of himself; of his old self. He felt as if the old Severus had flown away with the breeze. With Hermione by his side, he felt like a new man. It was the beginning of a great relationship. But he had a dilemma on his hands.   
  
If he were to confess to the Headmaster what he had done, he would lose his job, and ruin his reputation (thanks to those assholes at the Ministry). He knew what he did was wrong. But no one would ever understand that his feelings for Hermione were real. He knew those bastards at the Ministry would not look down on him as much as they would mock him for his 'desperate' choice for a lover. 

He could already picture them talking about him bedding a student because an older woman would notice his lack of appeal and sadistic qualities. For it did matter what most said or thought about him.

His reputation was important to him and so was Hermione's. He needed to figure out how to continue his relationship without arousing any suspicions. If worse came to worse, he would just have to wait for her to graduate in a few months before seeing her again.   
  
'For Slytherin's sake, this was a big risk,' he thought to himself. 

He only hoped no one found out about them before she graduated, though he felt he wanted to boast to the world that she had chosen him, without being under any spell, potion, or charm. It was completely within her own free will and he wanted the entire world to know that. Though he was not sure why he cared. He loved her. Oh Gods he loved her. He only hoped against hope that her feelings would never falter.  His mind was not completely clouded by love and lust for his obstinately stubborn Head Girl.   
  
He knew the age difference between them. He was also aware that a student-teacher relationship such as theirs was not as welcome as it was during the latter part of the late twenties when Headmaster Lufu Agapornis ran the school. Of course, it wasn't exactly welcome, but Agapornis held the record of allowing three of his Professors to engage in multiple acts of copulations with their students to slip right by him unnoticed. 

They were all from well-to-do families, and were pureblooded wizards as well. They were let off without a word heard from the Ministry. Hermione was Muggle-born, and he had that fucking mark on his arm that reminded everyone of what he used to be. There was no way they would let this pass. This was definitely going to be a problem.   
  
The thought of those bastards at the Ministry ruining everything infuriated Severus. He did not care in the least bit how wrong he was. He had the girl and that was all he cared about. He forced himself to think of something else before he got too angry and did something completely asinine that would wake Hermione up.   
  
He smiled when he remembered something from the previous hours. They were about to make love for the first time and he was reluctant to show her his mark. She had seen it once before, but it did not matter much to him. It grew uglier each day and he was none too eager to show her his disfigurement, for that's what it was to him: a deformity of his own person and body.   
  
But she circled her fingers around his tainted arm and kissed it with her soft lips. It stung her deeply, but she endured the pain, for she knew it was nothing compared to what he went through each day. He felt himself fall for her deeply than he ever had. She was too good to be his.   
  
Their earlier conversation had also brought a slight grin to his face. He remembered distinctively how she fumed when she reminded him of how he used to call her 'Granger' as if it were some vulgar word he spat out at her in irritation. He knew it pissed her off, but he only did it when she drifted off from her usual erudite self to a more asinine nature. Though he knew they were all guilty of that at some point.   
  
He stretched out again one last time as he felt sleep slowly overcome his senses. He decided he was not going to worry about this tonight. No. He was going to revel in the warmth of the sleeping woman at his side. His arms settled around her body as he pulled her close to him for comfort and warmth. He never wanted to let her go. 

'I love her,' he thought to himself, and at that moment he decided that nothing anyone could do or say was going to change his mind; nothing!   
  
There was a slight rap on the windowpane just as he rested his eyes. He opened them quickly not too sure if he had heard correctly, but there it was again. 

Severus shot up from his bed and swung his head round to see what was making that racket. His heart was pounding madly within him. In that fleeting moment fear overtook him as transitory thoughts of being caught flooded his mind. He was quickly calmed when he saw that it was just a large gray owl rapping profusely at his window.   
  
He relaxed slightly and released the breath of air he had not noticed he was holding, and cursed inwardly before sauntering over to the rapping owl.   
  
"Who the hell is sending letters at this time of the morning," he cursed under his breath as he got up to let the owl in. "Somebody better be dying," he supplemented bitterly.   
  
When he swung the window open he nearly jumped back when the owl tumbled forward and landed on its face. He was completely exhausted and worn out. Snape picked it up and set it near the fire before giving it some crumbs.   
  
Curious as to who was sending him letters at this time of the morning, and where it was exactly that it came from, Severus tore open the anonymous envelope and read silently to himself what was written inside.   
  
When he was done he stared confoundedly at what he had just read. He immediately scanned through it again several times to confirm it in his mind that what he read was real. He drifted into a dreadful trance as the letter slipped out of his fingers. He felt his body stiffen.   
  
For a moment he thought his heart had stopped beating and a glaring light had flashed before him till he told himself it was all an illusion. In some way he felt his heart had stopped completely. 

'It's all a nightmare,' he lied to himself. 'Just a fucking nightmare.' 

He snapped out of his daze as he slowly shifted his eyes to the cold floor where the letter laid folded by his feet. Severus felt his heart muscles tighten unusually. He looked down on his bed where a slender body laid limply, composed, and undisturbed. He felt his sides go numb as a certain passage in the said letter kept playing itself in his head. He let out an indiscernible gasp of air laced with a despairing note of anguish.   
  
It was all a dream--   
  
It was all a fucking dream.   
  
***** 

**Author notes:** Thanks Mystiria for the wonderful beta-work on this chapter.


	2. The Mistake

Chapter Two

The Mistake 

  
  
  
  
  
  
The bright rays of the early sun crept subtly through the thin curtains, filling the room with fresh morning light. The soft drippings of last night's rainstorm could still be heard outside with the gentle rustling of nearby trees. On the narrow iron-framed bed, Hermione stirred in her sleep whilst her dreams dissipated upon awakening. When her eyes opened she had completely forgotten what she dreamt about, although it must have been a good dream, she thought, because she felt wonderful, a different kind of wonder. The air was cool, the bed was warm, and the afterglow of last night's rain lifted her spirits. She closed her eyes again and reveled in the sweet memories of making love to Severus. As she recalled last night's events, she quickly reopened her eyes to check if it had all been a dream. When the blurred images around her became clear and confirmed that she was not in her private quarters, she smiled to herself, feeling even more elated than she did before.  
  
Gods, the feeling was surreal. She couldn't believe it finally happened. She had tried for months to get through to Severus, to convince him that there was something between them, and that it couldn't be ignored any longer. He spurned her and scorned her as usual, but she of course kept at it.  And last night when they had their worst row yet, she had flung herself against him. Surprised at the instant touch of her lips against his, he gave in to her. He had tried hard for the past few months to fight his feelings for her, but the Headmaster's request that she assist him on brewing the necessary potions for Harry did not help him at all.  
  
The fact that they had to be within such close proximity of each other after class annoyed him so. It was irritating enough having to put up with her incisive ways inside the classroom, but to endure her presence after class was too much. He lashed out at her every possible chance, though it only worsened things for him because she was now determined more than ever to stick to their task. Hermione would sneak down to his dungeons on nights they weren't supposed to meet, and helped brew the potions for Harry.  He was never too pleased with her constant intrusion.   
  
Harry had been poisoned at The Leaky Cauldron on their last trip to Hogsmeade. Someone had mixed his drink with a craftily refined aconite to make sure that it poisoned him slowly. The antidote to the aconitum poison is just as toxic if brewed improperly, and needs to be prepared carefully or the drinker would die from an entirely different poison.  
  
Hermione never understood what it was about her that really irked him so, but he kept harrying her out of habit, and she, out of irritation, would stand up against his constant hounding and speak her mind. It was odd to do so, for she never dreamt in her life to be so disrespectful to a Professor, no matter their unpleasantness.   
  
Severus never really minded her being there. He only made her feel as uncomfortable as he could because it was expected of him. Eventually, when he grew accustomed, sometimes comfortable, and at times even expecting her company, he felt a bond had formed between them. But despite how much she annoyed him with her little quirky ways.  He felt pulled in by her very presence, the amazing aptitude of her intellect, and her maturity. She never ceased to amaze him, though he never let it show until last night.   
  


  
  


Lying on her front with one hand tucked under her face while the other rested on her side, Hermione peeked an eye open to check one more time that she was indeed in Severus' room and not her own. When all was confirmed, again, she stretched herself out sluggishly as she studied her surroundings. She loved the feel of this room. It wasn't fancy, homely, or even gloomy as she had pictured it to be, but it was rather plain. The iron-framed bed was settled against the back wall, with an armchair upholstered in olive material situated to its right. It was set right beneath the only window in the room and its matching footrest was placed on a large diamond hearthrug. Between the bed and the bare concrete wall to her left was a door that led into what Hermione figured was the bathroom.  
  
Facing the opposite wall from the window, Hermione stretched out her hand behind her to feel for her lover, only to have her fingers caught in the rumpled bed linen. It felt cold under her touch, as if it had been unoccupied for a while. She tapped around lightly, falsely expecting her fingers to come across his body. She quickly flipped herself around and winced when the bright morning light got caught in her eyes. She narrowed her eyes from the morning light and saw someone seated in the armchair beneath the window. Severus had been sitting there for a few hours since he received his letter. He reached up with his long arms and pulled the curtains close. Grateful, Hermione opened her eyes wide and stared at the stilled figure seated in the faded armchair. She reached out for his pillow to hug it close to her and felt something long and thin beneath it. She pulled it from under his pillow and saw that it was his wand.  
  
Hermione let out a small grin as Severus watched her intently.  
  
"I didn't know you slept with your wand under your pillow," she said mockingly.  
  
Severus remained silent. His expression had returned to his usual cold glare. Hermione thought nothing of it. She took his silence as acquiescence and that he was simply not a morning person. She flashed him a wistful smile, though it inquired: "Why are you sitting there, and not lying here in bed with me?"  She tapped his side of the bed as if to motion for him to join her but he sat ever more still.  His eyes were upon her, though his thoughts were somewhere else.   
  
"Severus," she asked, slightly concerned. "What are you doing?"  
  
His thoughts trained back to her.  His eyes, cold and distant, lingered on her for a moment before turning away. It sent a chill down her spine and she stared back uneasily, wondering what on earth he was doing.   
  
"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" she whispered in a slightly hoarse voice, ignoring the awkward silence.  His eyes shifted slightly and although they were focused on the bed, his thoughts remained on her: how she laid there with nothing but his linen sheets between his gaze and her bare body.   He longed to dismiss all his troubles and just bury himself in her arms and bask in her warmth. It was a good thing she was covered up; seeing her naked would not help him at all with what he was about to do.   
  
"Severus?"   
  
"Get dressed," he said almost inaudibly, his voice unexpectedly fluent. Hermione's mind had gone blank for a moment, millions of things suddenly swarming in her head. As soon as she heard him say those words, her mind immediately rendered all possible explanations of what they truly meant: 'It isn't a beautiful morning, why the hell are you still here, last night was a mistake, Good Gods, what have I done, make her go away, make it all go away, I can't believe it was you, you look horrible in the morning, get up, get out, I need to be alone.'   
  
Ignoring her thoughts, she simply stared at him, though he could see by the slight creasing of her eyes that she was worried.  He braced himself for what he was about to do.  '_Merlin, help him. Help them both.'  
_  
"I said get dressed!"  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"Yes. Now gather your things and get dressed," he said coldly, with a slight edge to his voice. Hermione sat up from the bed quickly, the sheet falling off her chest and onto her lap, though her breasts were exposed to him, she did not care. She was too worried about where this conversation was headed. The softness in her eyes had diminished as Hermione glared sternly at the seated man. The profound silence, nerve-wracking and intense, had passed lengthily between them. She felt her heart's slow beating quickly accelerating and her soft breathing, now irregular.  Hermione slowly parted her lips, readying herself to say something but unsure of what to say.  
  
Snape turned his eyes away from her and got up from his seat to the footrest before the hearth, where the gray owl was still sleeping, and collected her clothes for her. He leaned over the foot of the bed and handed her her clothes. Hermione shoved the clothes off of her, and hastily got out of bed.   
  
"What's going on?" she spat as he walked over to the window. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Getting rid of you, now get dressed and get out," he said as he whipped around to meet her menacing glare. She was standing completely naked before him, her hair unkempt, and her hands balled into tiny fists. She shook from head to toe, and he felt her breath clash against his face. She was scared out of her wits, though her rigid expressions said otherwise.   
  
"Why are you doing this?" her voice, quivering and soft.   
  
"Isn't it obvious? It was a mistake; now get dressed Granger and get out!  I'm not going to tell you again."  
  
"Don't call me that," she said through gritted teeth, tears quickly filled her eyes. He turned from her and walked towards the hearth to get her robes and shoes. Right behind him, Hermione struggled to get in his face. "Look at me, you coward," she said as she pounded her fists against his back. "You can't fool me, I know it wasn't a mistake, so tell me what happened, Severus!"  
  
"It's Professor Snape to you, Miss Granger. I have not given you permission to address me so informally."   
  
"Oh, bullshit," she spat in his face, "you had no complaints last night, you bastard."  
  
"Twenty points," he sneered viciously, "for disrespecting your Professor, and twenty more if I have to tell you again to leave."  
  
Hermione shook her head fervently, her eyes widened with incredulity. "Don't do this! Why are you saying this?"  
  
"Ten points, Miss Granger!"  
  
"Stop it," she lamented while he continued his deduction.  
  
"Twenty more points," he said resolutely as he turned away from her, no longer able to withstand the hurt he saw in her face.  
  
"Don't walk away from me! I know you're hiding something. What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
"Thirty points!  Keep it up and you'll be joining the Quidditch team to get them back."   
  
"Oh, fuck you," she heard herself cry.  
  
Severus felt his heart constrict, the pit of his stomach, expanding, and his breath, held in. His eyes had nearly given him away, though a nasty sneer saved him again. "For your irreverent behavior, Miss Granger," he added contemptuously, "Ten more points will be deducted from your House."  
  
"And what about bedding a Professor," she said in an aggrieved jarring voice, "how much will you deduct for that?"  
  
Severus felt as if he had been punched in the midriff. He battled within himself to fight against the memories, thoughts, and feelings trying to edge their way into his subconscious, and meddle with his emotions. He could not allow himself to think about what he was doing to her, or how good she made him feel: the smell of her hair, the feel of her waist, the taste of her skin, her moist tongue twining with his, and the way she looked at him when he told her he loved her. He wished he could go back and erase it all. Undo the whole lot. It would've been a lot easier if last night had never happened… easier for her.  
  
"How much?" she asked, the tears spilling down her face.  
  
"Last night should never have happened." It was my mistake. I took advantage of you, and I can never undo the damage. But rest assured, the Headmaster will be informed of our…"  
  
"Our what?" she asked softly, her voice quivering. "She was hurt—deeply, unspeakably hurt." And he knew it. He knew it by the irregular beating of his heart, the unusual feeling in his gut, his uncoordinated breathing and the numbness in his sides. He never deigned to turn back now. It was too late. She was almost out the door.  
  
"Our misunderstanding," he retorted.  
  
"Don't you think it's a little too late for that?"  
  
"If you had listened to me, this wouldn't have happened in the first place."  
  
"So you're saying it's my fault," she said disbelievingly.  
  
"YES!! It is your fault," he spat in her face. If you hadn't thrown yourself at me, this would've never happened," he lied. One lie after another; he had broken every students' record for lying. He had never felt so repulsed with his behavior.  
  
Hermione shook her head slowly, trying to register her thoughts and his words at the same time. She spoke softly though still on edge, and her anger quickly subsiding. She knew he was up to something, and she was going to find out. 

"Severus, I would've never kissed you if I didn't think you wanted it."  
  
"I don't know about you, Miss Granger, but telling you to get the hell out of my life for the past few months in no way meant that I wanted you to throw yourself at me."  
  
"Stop lying! You love me."  
  
"You're an impediment. Now get out," he snapped as he turned from her.  
  
"No."  
  
Severus stopped in his tracks, his back now facing her and he slowly turned to meet her.   
"What?"  
  
"I'm not leaving. Not until you tell me what's going on. I saw the way you looked at me last night," she pleaded. "You told me you loved me, and I believed you. Don't do this to me Severus; you can't change what happened last night. If you feel guilty about it, it's understandable. I understand, I do. I'll stay away from you till I graduate. I can do that for you. I know something happened; tell me something happened, tell me something went wrong, just don't tell me it was a mistake."  
  
"Get out!"   
  
Hermione dropped her clothes to the floor and stood rigidly before him, determined she wasn't going anywhere. Tears filled her eyes, though her expression was as plain as ever. Severus had never seen anything so beautiful, so sad. He watched as tears spilled out of her soft eyes, and he fought the urge to make them stop. But his will was set, and he wasn't turning back.  
  
Severus walked over to the fireplace and took the small bronze cup that held his floo powder and scooped some up before throwing it into the hearth.  
  
"Dumbledore," he said firmly.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened as fear struck her hard. She couldn't believe he was doing this; she never thought he would go as far as to get the Headmaster. The idea that he wasn't lying the entire time had now paralyzed her, asserting the fact that he just might not be in love with her.  
  
Dumbledore's head had now appeared in the hearth. He seemed to be chewing on something. He looked up to a livid Snape and immediately stopped chewing. "Severus, is something wrong?"  
  
Hermione covered herself as well as she could with her clothing against her chest and the other beneath her belly, though Dumbledore could not see her. Snape cleared his throat and cursed inwardly as to why he was idiotic enough to call Dumbledore in. At the moment, he had only wanted to get the point across to Hermione.  But now that Dumbledore had shown up, he realized he was screwed.  
  
"Severus," the Headmaster repeated.   
  
"Dumbledore, I need to see you right now. It's very important."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and after a moment, Severus stepped back as the Headmaster stepped out of the hearth and into the room. Hermione stood near the door behind Dumbledore.  
  
"Severus, is something wrong?"  
  
Chilling and unmoving, Severus looked remorsefully towards the Headmaster before he fixed his eyes on a figure behind him. Dumbledore turned his head round to the direction of his gaze, and froze when his eyes met a partially covered Hermione standing miserably before them. The situation between his Potions master and Head Girl had immediately registered in his head.   
  
He sighed softly before turning back to Severus.  
  
"We'll talk about this later, but for now," he turned around and walked towards a distressed Hermione, and with a quick swish of his wand and a simple dressing charm, she was fully clothed and robed. He took her arm and led her to the fireplace.  
  
"Winky," he called out softly, and in an instant, the house elf appeared before him. "Winky, escort Miss Granger to her private quarters and wait there with her. Please see to it that she is taken care of."  
  
"Yes, Headmaster," she squeaked dutifully.  
  
Winky took Hermione by the hand and led her into the large fireplace before the Headmaster scooped some floo powder in his hands and threw it into the hearth.  
  
"The Head Girl's quarters," he said clearly. And with that, a green flame hovered over the two figures and swallowed them in. Before they disappeared, Snape glanced over to the hearth where in a passing moment he saw the hurtful look that lingered in her eyes. It stung him deep in the chest, and the Headmaster caught it all.  
  
The two men stood within feet of each other and Snape, unsure of what to say or where to start, felt him recoiling from the Headmaster. Dreading whatever chastisement the Headmaster was about to give him, he sank into his armchair, his hands covering his face. He felt it was his only shelter from the old man's soft, yet daunting eyes.  
  
"Feel free to lash out when you're ready, Albus.  The silence is deadly enough."  
  
"I know exactly how you feel, Severus, you need not to be alone in this. I've no doubt you understand the consequences of your actions, but what I'm not sure of at the moment, is your feelings for the girl."  
  
Snape looked at the Headmaster cautiously, as if what he had just heard was completely unexpected. But the Headmaster stared lengthily at the seated man, awaiting his reply.   
"And how could you possibly know what I'm feeling, Albus? I doubt you could even begin to understand what I'm going right now."  
  
Dumbledore walked over to the side of the bed closest to Severus and sat down with his hands planted on his lap. He took off his wizard hat and ran his fingers through his silver hair, as if what he was about to say was too painful to state.  
  
"Severus," he began, "I know that you have heard of a similar case such as yours, when Agapornis ran Hogwarts seventy years ago."  
  
"Yes, but this is not the same case, Albus."  
  
"Aah, then you do love her," he interrupted. "I was afraid of that," he continued. "Well then, in this case, I will continue with my story, because although you may have heard that these were mere copulations between these three professors and their students, one was not the case."  
  
"No?" Severus demurred.  
  
"No. It is not. Two of those professors, I knew quite well. Professor Leshesce and Professor Clement. Both had hated each other with the utmost repugnance, though that is not uncommon today either, but that's beside the point. My point is, their loathing for each other is what led to the bedding of an innocent student who got caught in the crossfire of such hatred. That, Severus, was inexcusable, and disgraceful as well as disrespectful to that poor child, her family, to Hogwarts, and to all the students as well as staff.   
  
"Yes, I understand that it was…" Severus said a bit disconcerted, feeling as if the Headmaster was comparing him to the two insolent Professors; though he wanted to say yet again, 'but this is still not the case'…   
  
"But what of the other?" he said instead.   
  
"Aah, yes, the other. Well, unfortunately for the other Professor, he had chosen the wrong time to fall in love with a student; for he was deeply, and truly in love with her. He didn't even try to fight his feelings.  He knew it was meant to be, and that she was made for him. But when the incident between the two Professors happened, he panicked, and worried anybody would think his feelings for the Head Girl, as in your case," he added, "was anything other than love."  
  
"Why hasn't it been explained then by Agapornis that this case was different from the rest?"   
  
"Would anyone believe him?" he asked pensively. Severus remained quiet and Dumbledore took his silence as a 'no'. "As I was saying, the relationship was found out, but only because this Professor decided to confess. The Headmaster, despite his disappointment, agreed to keep it a secret, for he did believe this professor was in love with the young lady. The girl's parents were informed, and she lost her title as Head Girl. Agapornis resigned as Armando Dippet took over. It was a terrible year for us all. The young lady was forbidden to see the Professor, and although his confession had lost him his love, he told himself that one day she would understand and hopefully forgive him as well."   
  
"And how do you know of this, if no one else knew?"  
  
"Because, Severus, that professor was me."   
  
Snape looked at him disbelievingly, unable to process what Dumbledore had just confessed to him.  
  
"Minerva, you see, has told me constantly over the years that she did understand, and has forgiven me, for it was her who I had fallen hopelessly in love with during my years as a professor. So you see, Severus, I do understand what you're feeling, although I had hoped a similar quandary would not occur while I am Headmaster, because in all honesty, I do not know how to deal with it," he said softly. "Should I tell you what I had hoped to hear from my Headmaster those years ago, or should I be more responsible, and do what I have to," he said as a single tear escaped his silver eyes. "It hurts to think what could have become of Minerva and myself, but I am also glad of what we are today."  
  
"I love her, Albus," Severus said softly, "but even if I didn't, I cannot allow it to go on. And it has nothing to do with my pride, or my status as a Professor, for she means more to me than that."  
  
"Then why have you shunned her from your life?"  
  
Severus took out an envelope from his robes and handed the letter to Albus. Severus gulped a mouthful of air and ran his fingers through his hair, before rubbing his eyes in frustration. An unusual expression passed over his face, almost indescribable, as if it was a whole new terrifying expression itself.  
  
"She's alive, Albus—

 "She's still alive."  
  
********************  
  
  



	3. Dreams

  
 Chapter Three  
  
Dreams  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
A hunched figure sat unmoving at her richly coated mahogany desk that was set against the back window of her small office. Her head bent aside, she scribbled notes and made study plans for the upcoming school year. The sharp scratching of her quill against the thin layers of ecru parchment and the chronic ticking of the cerulean porcelain clock on the office mantelpiece were the only palpable sounds heard in the darkly lit room.  
  
Her mind was fixed on the graceful movements of her quill as it jotted her thoughts down on parchment, and after a while of unswerving concentration, Hermione started when the antique clock chimed softly behind her. She sat up immediately and craned her neck round to check the time before the chiming of the antique clock sounded three o'clock. She dropped her quill and sighed softly as she reminded herself of how long she had been working. Unaware of how exhausted she was, Hermione leaned on the rigid back of her chair and gazed over her night's work. She felt a sense of relief because she had gotten most of her notes out of the way. She wasn't one to wait until the last minute to get something done, especially when it came to her students.  
  
"Seven consecutive hours," she whispered to herself in a self-accusing murmur. Hermione knew she had to get some rest, but she had promised herself she wouldn't put her notes off for another day, even though the new school year was not for another month. Exhausted, Hermione flexed her neck sideways to loosen her stiff muscles and ran her hand behind her nape to ease the tension in her shoulders.  
  
There were a few more parchments to look through and notes to make before she was done for the night. It was a good thing she had gotten most of her work out of the way earlier in the summer. Her fellow Professors kept telling her that she had to find more things to do during the break other than shuffling through paperwork and making student plans for the upcoming school year. Being back at Hogwarts would take some getting used to. Though she had lived there for seven years, Hogwarts was not a place one could ever get used to, no matter how long one lived there.  
  
Hermione had to remind herself every day of what on earth convinced her to come back to the place despite the promise she made to herself those years ago to never to return. She had dreaded coming back, and though she had been teaching for only two years, the time seemed to drag on at a much slower pace than that. She had not changed much throughout the years. She had gained a few inches around the waist, and a few in height, as well. She kept her thick hair in a tight bun at all times, which induced the pulling on her thin taut face. Her soft eyes seemed to have lost its sparkle and had turned into unsympathetic glaring mechanisms. She was just as strict a Professor as she was Head Girl those years ago, though more ascetic and austere in appearance now that she was the Potions mistress. Such a position required stringent comportment to ensure her students remained on their best behavior, and acquire the profound knowledge for such a complex course. Her consistent studying habits had not changed either. Hermione spent most, if not all, her nights in her office marking papers, making notes, and going over unnecessary paperwork.  
  
She sighed softly and leaned forward to gently rest her forehead on the hard polished surface of her desk as her body signaled desperately to her mind of its exhaustion. She stared vaguely down at her hands tucked habitually into her thighs as her mind flashed from one thought to another too quickly to be discerned individually. In between thoughts, a distant voice warned her not to fall asleep. She knew very well the dreams she had when she fell asleep so suddenly, especially now that she was back in Hogwarts. Seven years she had spent there, sheltered from any dangers lurking outside. She had even come to love and call it her only home. But it wasn't long after that that she had cursed the place and damned it to hell. Even its magically shielded walls could not have protected her from the one peril that assailed her those years ago. She hated thinking about it. She hated Hogwarts, and everything about it. Too many memories lingered there. Too many tears had she cried there, as well. Hermione forced herself to a clear mind before recollections of her past life at Hogwarts came back to her and infuriated her.  
  
Pulling her hands from her thighs and nestling her head into her arms, Hermione lousily fought her sleep as she rested her head comfortably in the fleshy niche of her arm. Lulled by the rapid flashing of her distant thoughts, her eyes batted in a languid manner until she finally gave in and drifted off into a deep slumber.  
  
  
  
  
_…Wisps of color swirled all around Hermione as her vague dreams became more clearly by the moment…_  
  
  


Panegyrical praises sounded out in the Great Hall as the last moments for the seventh years at Hogwarts neared to an end. Each Head of House led their students to their Houses following their final great feast, and after a round of encomia and great thanks, the students were free to do as they pleased. 

"For those of you who are staying behind," McGonagall called out through the buzz and horde of teeming students, "please insist on helping Madame Pince with her request – with her request," she repeated as swarms of seventh years nearly knocked her down as they pushed their way past her, "for organizing some of the used books we are donating to the Hogervow Institution." No one seemed to pay heed, for not one student was staying behind.  
  
"…Hurry, Hermione! They're waiting for us at the pub," a distant familiar voice called out, though the face was too blurry to make out.  
  
"You guys go on, I have a lot of things to do here," she lied. The great halls of Hogwarts Hermione leaned against in her dream had suddenly disappeared as bright sunrays pierced through the hoary clouds and spilled fresh light onto her surroundings. She now found herself at the Burrow.  She was in the backyard, sitting on a weather-beaten wooden bench that wobbled with her every stir, while George laid flat on the parched lawn, looking up into the sky as he tossed an angry gnome in the air.  
  
"Well, that's just ridiculous, George," she heard herself say. "Harry and Ron are not lovers."  
  
"Of course they are, Hermione," he whispered conspicuously. "Why do you think they fight all the time?"  
  
"We all fight all the time."  
  
"Yeah, but you don't sleep in the same room." Hermione looked confoundedly towards the freckled twin and shook her head in dismissal.  
  
"George, that doesn't make any sense at all."  
  
…The burrow had suddenly disappeared as Hermione's dream flashed abruptly before her again, taking her to a different memory at a different time. The vivid wisps of color around her had changed to a dark gray, and the outdoor setting from her previous memory had evaporated instantly as huge thick walls closed in around her. The wavering flames of the Common Room fireplace had cast flickering shadows that danced all around her and the sobbing figure in her arms. The petite young lady with tousled red hair buried her splotched face in Hermione's arms as Hermione tried to comfort her. Distraught, Ginny sobbed convulsively in Hermione's arms as she tried her best to control her bawling.   
  
"I doubt Harry is cheating on you," Hermione whispered. "It's just not like him Gin'; besides, he loves you; you should know that by now."  
  
"You don't understand, Hermione," she sniffed, "I caught him. I s-saw him k-k-kissing her," she said through shuddering gasps before the remaining words were muffled through Hermione's sweater as Ginny buried her head in her arms once again. "I'm going to kill him," she said suddenly as she leapt up from her seat and headed out the door.  
  
_*Flash*_  
  
  


…The remaining light of day played out across the field as the scarlet sun sank slowly over the Forbidden Forest and its thick bordering shrubbery. Slivers of red and mauve streaked the cobalt sky, giving the field an iridescent glow. Looking out into the blurred field of green as the players on brooms zoomed past each other at unfathomable speed, Hermione was engrossed in the beautiful landscape before her; it was like a picturesque painting of an autumn scene in the countryside.  
  
It had been the longest game of Quidditch in the past few decades, and though the game had gone on for nearly fourteen hours, none of the players had shown any signs of fatigue or defeat. Hermione sat up at the very top of the stands with Hagrid and Neville flanking her sides. The beautiful setting and the energy from the crowd fed the determined players on brooms, as they thrived in such moments.  
  
"Slytherin scores ten points and ties with Gryffindor at one hundred and twenty points," cried the student commentator suddenly as the silver and green crowd roared out in excitement from their team's scored goal.  
  
The viridescent scenery before her had suddenly faded as she found herself lying beneath a manly figure, under thin cotton sheets as their bodies rocked against each other in an erotic motion. Although he lay atop her, he held his weight on his arms, which were propped on the bed beside her. Her legs folded tightly around him as he slowly and gently eased his way inside her. She let out a muffled moan as her lover sent tingling shockwaves throughout her body. She squeezed her thighs tightly around him as she bucked herself upward to meet his every thrust. His scent imbued her skin, and his sweat dripped onto her as they made love to each other for the first time that night.  
  
The scene became blurry as it fast-forwarded a few hours. "_I love you_," came a soft almost inaudible voice. Hermione wasn't sure whom it came from. She heard it again, as if it were an echo, taunting her almost. _"I… love you."_  
  
Hermione's dream had shifted again to another time and place. Whether it was deliberate, she did not care or notice.  
  
- "Miss Granger, could you please inform the class the only time of year the zodiacal constellation Scorpius is visible in the Northern Hemisphere?"  
  
Hermione looked up from her notes, surprised and slightly disappointed she had been singled out from the class. 'Today of all days,' she thought to herself before answering.  
  
"In the summer evenings, Professor."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger. Twenty points to Gryffindor for the only student who completed last night's assignment," the Astronomy professor said disappointedly, as Hermione flushed from ear to ear. "And if this ever happens again, I will deduct ten points from each student. Last weekend's holiday break was no excuse to ignore your assignments, and I do not want to see this happening again. I am very disappointed, class."  
  
Hermione's head was now swarming with old and new memories flooding back to her, invading her conscience. The memories flashed before her in and out and in no particular order.  
  
"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" she heard herself whisper in her morning voice. It was indeed a beautiful morning, she remembered distinctly.   
  
_*Flash*_   
  
  


"Harry, you failed our test?  Unbelievable!  Didn't you study?"  
  
"Hey, Harry, Gin's looking for you," Ron cut in.  
  
"Of course I did, Hermione, I just had a long Quidditch practice yesterday; that's all," he said guiltily before turning to Ron at his side. "Could you tell her I'll be there in a sec?"  
  
"Harry…"  
  
Hermione's dream seemed to have gone out of control.  She tossed and turned as the memories, she had worked so hard to bury, came flooding back to her.  
  
…"You love me," came a distant familiar voice in her dream. "No," she muttered in her sleep as her past memories flashed uncontrollably.  
  
_  
  
  
"Hermione, is he going to be okay?"  
  
"He's fine, Neville; the antidote won't be ready for another week, but Harry's strong; he'll make it through. He always does."  
  
*Flash*   
  
"Get dressed!"  
  
-  
  
"Hermione, we need you to come back. Albus specifically asked for you. Will you see him?"  
  
-  
  
"There's nothing going on, Ron. You're just being paranoid."  
  
-  
  
"Shut up, Parkinson! I'm sick of listening to your empty threats."  
  
-  
"You're an impediment."  
  
-  
"Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins!"   
  
-  
"Never - add fluxweed before monkshood in ANY sleeping potion. Ever! You should know this by now, Neville; you've got the highest marks in Herbology."  
  
-  
"I know something happened. Tell me something happened, tell me something went wrong; just don't tell me it was a mistake."  
  
-  
"Hermione, darling, daddy's home! Get in here before you dirty your dress."  
  
-  
"Isn't it obvious…"  
  
-  
"Platform Nine and ¾. It says to run right into the wall, Mum; I'm sure that's exactly what I need to do."  
  
"But it's just ridiculous, Hermione; you'll kill yourself."  
  
"Oh, Mum, I'll be fine."  
  
-  
"I can't believe you hit Viktor. What the hell were you thinking, Ron?"  
  
  


"Oh, I don't know. I thought he was trying to SWALLOW your face there for a moment."  
  
-  
"You're late, Miss Granger; ten points from Gryffindor."  
  
-  
"Why are you saying this?"  
  
-  
"Ugh, I got the sardine-flavored one."  
  
-  
"Run your fingers up my dress again, Malfoy, and you'll never see them again!"  
  
-  
"Get out!"  
  
-  
"Please, don't do this to me."  
  
-  
"Twenty points, Miss Granger."  
  
-  
"Dumbledore, I need to see you right now. It's very important."  
  
-  
"Winky."  
  
-  
"Hermione, let's board the train before it leaves. What are you waiting for?"  
  
-  
"Please, Miss Granger, don't cry. Winky is here. Winky helps."  
  
-  
"Darling, please eat your dinner. You're too thin."  
  
-  
"I said, Get Out!"  
  
-  
"Look at me, you coward."  
  
-  
"… I can't believe you forgot your wand… What are you going to do? The train will be leaving soon…  
  
"Just board the train, Gin'… I'll figure something out."   
  
-  
"Miss Granger, your wand."  
  
  
**Flash**  
  
  
  


…The Hogwarts Express blew steam out of its boiler as it prepared to leave. The station was buzzing with mirth and excitement as students ran frantically around the station to take quick snap-shots of each other and exchange personal memorabilia: from chipped mugs and cursed photos, to flashing pins and charmed figurines – with those who will never return for the following year. The steam whistle blew out loud as a signal that it was ready to depart soon. Most had board the Express by now except for a very few…  
  
  
…"I can't believe you forgot your wand."  
  
"I must've forgotten it in Dumbledore's office before I left the castle."  
  
"Well, what are you going to do? The train will be leaving soon."  
  
Hermione fiddled around her robe and coat pockets, falsely expecting to find her wand, only to come up with nothing. "Just board the train, Gin', she said softly, "and save me a seat, I'll figure something out."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes. If not, I'll just owl Dumbledore from the Burrow and tell him to send it to me."  
  
Ginny nodded hesitantly before she left her friend and boarded the Hogwarts Express.  
  
Hermione cursed under her breath, knowing very well there was no way she was going to get her wand before the train left. She contemplated for a while on possible ways to attain her wand or ways it might suddenly appear before her, till she gave up and turned to board the train. She had hardly taken a step towards the Express when she felt a slight change in the air. A light shadow passed over her as the atmosphere turned cold and caused her hair to stand on end. She knew someone was standing behind her, and had a slight idea of whom it was. Only one person could stand near her and make her blood run cold. Hermione turned around slowly to meet the baleful eyes of her bleak Potions master.  
  
"Your wand, Miss Granger," he said sternly as he reached into his pockets and withdrew the wand from his robes. "The Headmaster requested I bring this to you."   
  
She stared bleakly at the gaunt-faced man, though his eyes were upon his outstretched hand. She shifted her eyes down to his large potion-stained fingers twined gracefully around her wand and wondered why he didn't so much as look at her. She contemplated whether it was intentional or if he simply didn't care.  
  
"Do you want your wand or not, Miss Granger?" he interrupted her thoughts.  
  
Hermione hesitated for a moment before retrieving the proffered wand. She felt an unusual tugging in her chest and fought hard against the tears slowly forming in her eyes. She did not want this man to see her like this; see what he had done to her, and the agonizing effect he still had on her. She fought hard and failed.  
  
  


…"Well, if there is nothing else," Snape bowed his head slightly and turned to leave. It took every fiber in his being to move each muscle and prevent them from reaching out to her. He had almost turned in to a corner when he heard her softly whisper behind him:  
  
"Did you ever love me?" She uttered despairingly. She said it more to herself than him, though she hoped that he would hear. Snape froze in his tracks, his back still facing her and his body numbing slowly. "Even in the slightest bit?"  
  
He felt his heart shatter into more pieces than he could imagine possible. A stinging sensation cut through his body and followed up to his eyes, as he felt them well up unusually. He shook his head slightly, clearing it of all thoughts and ambivalent feelings. He hesitated for a moment before he whipped around and shot her the most repugnant look he could mask.   
  
"Would I even be capable of such a thing, Miss Granger?" he spat condescendingly.  
  
"Everyone is capable of loving, Professor," she said softly.  
  
"Then why would anyone waste such feelings on an insufferable nuisance like yourself?"   
  
His words stung like poison; spat out in an insuperable tone of loathing. She felt each word as acutely as he had said it, and deliberated for a moment, unable to think or speak. Her feelings were unbearable, and her expression more than explained it. He never failed to reduce her to anything less than the very dirt she stood on. If she had not died that morning a few months back, she had died that very moment. Her face had been washed pallid, and her bloodless lips trembled beneath her slightly upturned nose. Whatever hurt she was feeling, it was nothing compared to what he felt each time he hurt her.   
  
A deathlike look fell upon her face. Tears once more spilled out of her deeply sunken eyes which inquired, _'Why are you doing this to me?  Why?'_ She stood paralyzed in her numbed frame of mind as it grasped that one particular moment and replayed it incessantly in her mind amid its devastation. She knew everyone behind her was watching her, although they had no idea of the matter. Severus watched her sway slightly whilst she drowned in her unarticulated anguish. Her eyes were vaguely upon him as her thoughts drifted somewhere else. Her eyes unconsciously shifted down to his trembling hands partially obscured by the cuff of his robes, though she was too distressed to have noticed. He saw the wounded look that swept over her face and had almost reached out to pulled her in to him, before he decided against it. He stepped back suddenly as he was determined to go through with his initial plans. It was the only thing to do.  
  
He raised his brow slightly in contempt as if to ignore the distressing state she was in. He turned on his heels and left her there alone to drown in her pain and suffering. Her friends had run out of the train to save her from him, not caring in the least bit whether they got left behind. But they would never understand what really happened; who was really hurt that day. It was too complicated for anyone with such simple minds, as they possessed to understand.   
  
Severus wanted to run, though it was completely out of his nature. He needed to get away, and quick, before he collapsed under the weight of his own lies and pain. He could see her from the corner of his eye in an unmoving stance as he willed himself to keep walking and to never turn back. He had almost made it past the same corner again when he saw her tumble to the ground behind him...  
  
  
  


A figure quickly jolted up from the bed whilst his dreams faded away. His hand smacked hard against his shrunken chest, heaving as he panted desperately for breath. His blood-shot eyes roamed around the room as it pierced through the darkness to study his surroundings. Realizing it was just a dream and not real life playing itself again, he closed his eyes and sighed softly. Relieved, he held his forehead wearily in his hands as he drew a ragged breath. The gasping figure allowed himself a short moment to collect his thoughts and steady his breathing before sitting up. Remaining seated on the edge of the bed, he threw his head back slightly before running his long proficient fingers across his face. As he massaged his throbbing temples, the tips of his fingers caught on the stray tendrils brushing his eyes.  
  
'Damn it, Severus,' he cursed to himself as he slewed his head round to check the time—

_Three forty-two_.  
  
  


*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N:  Thanks Shannon [Raindrops on Roses] for the marvelous job you did polishing up this chapter.  

Thanks for Reviewing!!


	4. Diagon Alley

Chapter Four  
  
Diagon Alley  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
"Morning!" Hermione Granger looked up from her desk to see Remus' head through the slight gap of her door.   
  
"Hello, Remus!"  
  
"Can I come in?"   
  
"Sure," she said as she shuffled some papers and stowed them away in her drawer.  Remus walked in and settled himself in the straight back chair across from her mahogany desk. It was very uncomfortable--perhaps to make her students uneasy when they were sent to her office for a reprimand. She never understood why, but since she started working at Hogwarts, Minerva had been sending the Gryffindor students to her for punishment. Hermione made sure each student sent to her never came back again. So far she had done a great job keeping that up. She was as dreadful to her students as Snape was; yet she was not as biased towards them as he was.  
  
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Remus said in his usual raspy voice. He has taken care of himself since he moved back to Hogwarts, she noticed.  He looked healthier each day. The color was coming back to his face, and his eyes did not look as deeply sunken as they used to. As defined and sculptured as his face was, he had a bit of flesh in his cheeks to give fullness to his features. He was very attractive, although, like Hermione, he too had not engaged himself in relationships and such. He cared greatly for her, especially since she alienated herself from all her friends and family for the past several years. He took it upon himself to keep her company as often as he could, despite her newfound bitterness.  
  
"No, no," she replied. "I just got through my meeting with the Ministry officials."  
  
"How did it go?"  
  
"Good.  They've approved all my lesson plans. You know; the usual."  
  
"I'm sure you did great, Hermione." She nodded in acquiescence before slightly raising a brow that inquired about his visit.  
  
"Well, I bumped into Minerva this morning and she told me that you were going down to Diagon Alley in the afternoon. I was wondering if you wanted me to come along."  
  
"Thanks, but I'll be all right."  
  
"Well, I'm sure you will, but I thought you could use the company."  
  
"I'm not really going to take long, Remus," she muttered softly. "I'm just going to grab a few things and come back. I've no reason to stay long."  
  
"You know, Hermione, you don't have to be afraid to relax every now and then. You deserve it, you know. Stop hiding yourself behind your desk and go out for a change. The summer's nearly spent and I haven't seen you outside once for a breath of air. The sun misses your face, Love."  
  
"The sun is no concern of mine, Remus. And I've much more important things to worry about here than getting a tan. I'm sorry if it upsets you that I'm not as relaxed as you all seem to be, but—"  
  
"That's not fair," he said softly, "You know we all work very hard here. We deserve every break we get, and you're no different."  
  
"I'm sorry, Remus, but if I choose to spend my time here in my office than that's how I'll spend it. I see nothing wrong with that."  
  
"I'm just concerned about you, Hermione. I know you don't want to be here, although I really wish I knew why. We have all missed you, and despite your reasons for staying away all these years, we're all glad you're back with us."  
  
"I have no problem being here," she lied. "I'm just wondering how much longer. It's already been two years and I still haven't seen a replacement. Minerva keeps giving me the runaround and I'm starting to suspect that they aren't looking for one."  
  
"Well, you're a great Potions mistress. It's hard to find anyone as good as you, or better; other than Severus, of course, but he's too content with being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to go back to Potions."  
  
The mention of Severus' name struck her unexpectedly. It always surprised Hermione how the mere mention of that man's name still caught her attention. She cleared her mind and quickly changed the subject. "I should get back to work, Remus."  
  
"Of course. I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time," he said as he stood up and headed for the door. "What time are you leaving for Diagon Alley?"  
  
"Probably one o'clock, but I really don't—"  
  
"Then I'll see you at one," and with that he left and closed the door gently behind him before Hermione had the chance to protest. She stared at the closed door and allowed a slight smile to escape her consistently pursed lips.  
  
*******  
  
  
  
  
  
The relentless heat of Diagon Alley had given the marketers more than enough reason to curse the sweltering sun. The crammed horde of witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes had only added to the crowd's agitation and not to mention persistent sweating and shameless frottaging. The stench of perspiration that hung in the stifled air was as unbearable as an Unforgivable curse. The irritated crowd was not too pleasant with the constant elbowing and shoving. Remus and Hermione witnessed an old, plump witch roll more vulgar words off her tongue to a by-passer that knocked her down than there possibly were. She had given up on casting a cooling charm every few minutes after having it wear off prematurely from being weakened by the unrelenting heat. She should have known better than to come shopping in midday on a Saturday, especially in the summer. But, despite her irritation, a part of her missed the boisterous sounds of the market place on the weekend; the buzz of excitement that coursed through the crowd as they entered the busy shops and walked out with their shopping. The looks of longing and delight on the children's faces as they gathered with their friends outside Quality Quidditch Supplies to drool over the window display of their latest broom release. It brought back fond memories of her childhood in Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione and Remus had wasted a good deal of time watching an old hag bargaining fervently with a peddler at his corner booth over an antique wand case which he reportedly swore was once owned by the great Merlin himself. Hermione was interested to see if the witch would end up buying the wand, and at what price. She was quite surprised to see that she had not only reduced the price of the jade embedded wand case from 69 galleons to 29 galleons but also had a matching wand stand thrown in for free. The satisfaction of seeing the look of displeasure and defeat on the mottled wizard's face made up for the guilt she felt for the precious time she wasted. 

Hermione had one more stop to make before leaving Diagon Alley. She needed to get a book at Flourish and Blotts, but it was simply too crowded for her to enter just yet. New and returning students were busy getting the rest of the supplies on their lists for school, and they only had a couple of weeks left of summer vacation. Remus took Hermione by the hand and convinced her to get some ice cream with him before they forced their way through the crowded bookstore.   
  
"I really don't want any ice cream, Remus," she asserted resolutely. "I'm anxious to get into Flourish and Blotts before it is impossible for us to get in. There were only a few copies of _Magical Men_ left from last I checked, and by the time we get there, they're sure to have run out." Remus, still holding on to Hermione's hand as he pushed his way through the crowd to Rainbow Bliss ice cream parlor, allowed a slight grin to escape his thin sculptured face as Hermione tried hard to convince him to turn around and head for the bookstore.  
  
"Who's it for?" he interrupted.  
  
"Who's what for?"  
  
"Magical Men; It hardly seems like your choice of reading material. Who's it for?"  
  
"It's a gift," she said softly.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
"Remus, I'd rather not discuss this right now."  
  
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pry, Hermione. I was just curious," he grinned.  
  
"What? Why are you grinning?"  
  
"Nothing, it's just-"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You sound irritated with me," he smiled as they arrived at the ice cream parlor. "It's very hard for me to irritate someone. It's just not in my nature, you see. I'm very likable; everybody loves me," he said with his hand settled against his chest in mock extravagance. Hermione chuckled lightly as she nudged her companion in the ribs.   
  
"You're such a kid, Remus," she smiled as they entered the parlor. "Well, I'll get our ice creams while you find us some seats. It seems to be crowded in here as well. I had hoped everyone wouldn't come this far for ice cream, but I guess I was wrong. I shouldn't have underestimated the heat," he said disappointedly.  
  
"I was wondering if you had noticed the six ice cream parlors we passed along the way here," she said before leaving Remus to find their seats. Hermione found them a seat by the wall close to the window and far from the door as Remus ordered her caramel mint, and his mango lime sorbet. Remus stared at Hermione as he handed her her ice cream. When she took her first taste, a look of unexpected relief swept over her face. She had not known how hot she was until the fresh minty coolness of her Caramel Mint touched the tip of her tongue and coursed a refreshing tingle down her dried throat and throughout the rest of her body. It gave her goosebumps and made her hair stand on end. It felt so much better getting cooled down by ice cream than by magic, she thought. She should've known better than to use magic so needlessly. She had learned to be conservative with magic, unlike most wizards and witches, and used it only when she taught or if she absolutely needed to.  
  
"Good?" He grinned as he watched her startle and smudge her ice cream all over her chin. Hermione scowled at him for being such a pest and brought her thoughts back to him and her ice cream.  
  
"You're in a good humor today. I'm wondering why," she said as Remus wiped the ice cream off her face.  
  
"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'll let you guess for a while." Hermione stared at him long and hard before making her first guess. She wanted to get it right the first time, even though she was sure he would give her all the chances in the world. She quickly analyzed Remus and his nature; the type of person he was, his nature, people who made him unhappy, things he never looked forward to, what would particularly make him happy, yet didn't occasionally happen to him, and before he knew it, she had figured out the reason for his unusual cheerfulness. She shot Remus a glance before averting her attention back to her ice cream and purposely ignoring him.  
  
"Very impressive," he said softly. "You never cease to disappoint me, Hermione," he smiled benignly.  
  
"I haven't said anything yet, Remus,"  
  
"You didn't need to. I know that look on your face. Besides, if you had taken another minute longer, I would've thought you had lost your touch." Hermione smiled at her chum before pushing her ice cream aside.  
  
"Are you nervous?"  
  
"I'd like to say no, but then I'd be lying. I'm so afraid, Hermione, sometimes I wish it weren't true."  
  
"You can't possibly mean that Remus. You deserve this. Isn't it what you've always wanted?"  
  
"Yes. It's just unreal to think that it's finally happened to me. All those years of extensive research, I nearly gave up, Hermione."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"Yes, and I owe that much to Severus."  
  
"Remus you don't owe that – man anything. You asked him to help assist you on your research and he agreed. Besides, he wasn't the only one who helped."  
  
"I didn't mean in that way, Hermione. I meant I owe him a lot for something that he did for me personally, although he'd die before admitting it," Remus grinned.  
  
"What's that?" she said trying not to sound too eager.  
  
"About a year ago after we tested one of our cures and it failed, I completely lost it; tore the whole lab down and ruined nearly all the lab equipment and most of our ingredients. I had such high hopes; I truly thought we had it that time. But it failed, and I couldn't take it anymore," he said ashamedly. "It took us about six months at the least to get hold of some of our ingredients again. Most of them were very rare and seldom ever made. Severus--well, you know Severus; he threatened to kill me if I had another outburst like that. He made sure that I felt horrible about wasting his time and all those years he's wasted on helping me to find my cure. I hit rock bottom, Hermione. I shunned everyone, stopped taking my potion, and attempted to take my life several times. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't care about anything, anyone, nothing," he whispered to himself. "I was practically gone, Hermione, dead. One night, Severus came over to my place and cursed me out cold. Can you believe him?" Remus chuckled, "and without even a warning. He blasted my door down, threw me across the wall, and dragged me all the way back to Hogwarts. I found out that night that he was still working on finding a cure for me. I thanked him for coming for me, but that only infuriated him. He told me he only came for me because Dumbledore told him to. He said he would've rather seen me rot in my cottage for all he cared."  
  
"Yes, well it figures that he would say something like that," she said with great dislike.  
  
"I owe Severus a lot. I only wish I could do something for him. I mean if this cure really works, Hermione – I'll finally be able to relax and feel free." Hermione saw a light in his eyes that she had seldom ever seen before. She felt so happy for him, but also feared what it would do to him if this cure failed him again.  
  
"Remus, you do understand that if it doesn't work—"  
  
"Don't worry, Love. I won't do anything rash. I'm hopeful, but not deliriously so. Besides, I'd hate to think what Severus would do to me if I lost it again."  
  
Hermione forced a slight smile and refrained from saying anything, hoping their conversation would not lead to the topic of Severus. "I think we should get going," she changed the subject. "We have a staff meeting at five o'clock," she said as she looked out the window and into the crowded streets, where she recognized some familiar faces. 

They were returning students of Hogwarts. Hermione noticed one of them in particular. Of course, anyone would notice her face from a mile away. She was her sixth year student from last term. Beautiful, heartless, Slytherin; three main traits used to describe Miss Annessa Bailey. Every boy in school wanted her. Tall, lean, and graceful, her walk demanded attention with every graceful sway.  One couldn't help but stare at her face: milky white complexion silhouetted by her long ebony hair with few wayward tendrils that framed her heart-shaped face. Her porcelain facade was so devoid of any color or emotion, she almost seemed fragile. But in this case, her looks were definitely deceiving. There was nothing innocent about Annessa Bailey; with deep grey eyes that settled beneath long perfectly penciled eyebrows, and lips with more curves than an hourglass, Miss Bailey had features that rivaled that of a veela's and her attitude could definitely give them a run for their money. 

It was no surprise that she was envied by every girl in school. She moved with a flank of teenage girls numerous enough to form a House of their own. This young woman could have anything and anyone she wanted, Hermione thought.  She was so beautiful she almost pitied her. Beauty such as that never came without a great price. And if she was not vigilant, her own looks could work against her.  
  
"She's beautiful, isn't she," Remus interrupted her thoughts, "And she doesn't have a drop of veela in her."  
  
"I almost pity her, Remus, yet I can't seem take my eyes off of her," Hermione said dazedly as she continued staring at the young lady outside. "She seems almost fragile."  
  
"Yeah, well don't let her hear you say that," Remus chuckled as he collected their things.  "She's as cold and heartless as a steel blade.  "That poor Ehlaana Mae she tormented last term would certainly agree with me," he said as they left Rainbow Bliss. They headed for Flourish and Blotts for Hermione's book before heading back to the castle. She did not leave Diagon Alley till after five. She was glad Remus had come along with her, though she refrained from telling him so.  
  
  
  


******************  
  
  
  


A/N: Thanks again Shannon!  You did a great job on this chapter!


	5. The Staff Meeting

Chapter Five

The Staff Meeting

Hermione and Remus had not arrived at Hogwarts until quarter to six.  Hermione rushed up to the castle and through the overly large oak doors soon after Remus and her Apparated from Hogsmeade.  She heard Remus call out from behind her that he was going down to Hagrid's hut for a second.  She waved her hand behind her in reply and hurried through the doors and down the corridors to get to the staff room.  It was not like her to be late for a staff meeting – to be late for anything.  She was very disappointed in herself and cursed inwardly for going to Diagon Alley so late in the afternoon.  When she stumbled through the door to the staffroom, she was surprised to see that not all the staff was present.

"Aah, Hermione, I see you're back," the Headmaster said cheerfully as he sipped on his cup of tea.  "How was your trip to Diagon Alley?  I trust you found everything you needed?"

"Yes.  The market was very hectic; it took me several hours just to get a few things done.  I apologize for being late.   Where is everyone?"

"The meeting has been pushed to 6:00, so you are actually early."  Hermione released a breath of relief before taking a seat at the large oval table their meetings were usually held at.  Dumbledore always sat at the head with Minerva to his right and Severus to his left.  To Minerva's right, April Sprout usually sat with Hagrid on her right and Remus next to him.  The seat to the left of Severus was always vacant, but usually because he would make sure that whoever dared to sit next to him was as uncomfortable as he could make them.  But next to that forever-vacant seat, Percy would usually sit.  He wanted to be as close to the Headmaster as possible, and the two flanking seats next to him would ever seat the Gryffindor and Slytherin Head of Houses.  

"Tea?" the Headmaster asked.

"Yes, please."  

"Where is Remus?" 

"He stopped by Hagrid's; he said he'll be up soon."  Hermione took a minute to steady her breathing while Dumbledore poured her tea and handed it to her.   Hermione could see Minerva from the corner of her eye motioning for her to join her, April Sprout, and Viola Vector in the corner.  Hermione pretended as if she hadn't noticed and struck up a conversation with the Headmaster to make herself seem occupied.  She was not in the mood for futile gossips; she was hot and tired and eager to get their staff meeting going so she could head to her office and get some more work done.  

"So, how's Irma?" Hermione whispered.  She didn't want anyone but the Headmaster to hear her.

"Ah, she's fine.  She's making excuses not to leave, of course.  My dear Irma; she does not trust anyone to watch over her books.  She has been taking care of those books longer than anyone ever to set foot at Hogwarts.  No one cares more about the library than she."

"I can not begin to think what she is going through.  Does she know who you have gotten to replace her while she is gone?"

"No.  I will not announce that today.  I am afraid she will get word of it before she leaves.  She will definitely stay for sure if she found out who was taking care of her library while she was gone."

"Well, I'm curious already."

"You will soon find out.  I will let the others know of Irma's six months leave.  I have kept it secret long enough."

"I almost slipped today at Diagon Alley when Remus went with me.  I told him I wanted to get Magical Men before it ran out and he asked me who it was for.  I didn't tell him it was for Irma, but he was very suspicious."

"Remus should have guessed that only Irma would read something with such a title," he smiled.  "Well, no matter they will find out today.  She does not wish to attend our staff meeting.  I believe she thinks it is too much for her to admit that she has to abandon her duties here at Hogwarts.  She has never had a day off since she first started here.  Good Merlin, how long ago it was.  I am beginning to feel very old."

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Minerva called out from behind them.  "You're up to something, I can tell."

"It is nothing you will not find out about, dear."  Minerva shot Albus a suspicious look as a knock sounded at the door and startled everyone quite suddenly.  Filch was crouching at the door, banging as hard as he could, as if there was something he was not too happy about.

"Argus, is something the matter?"

"I have a note for you Headmaster," he croaked as he handed the note to Albus.  Dumbledore took the note and thanked Filch.  He knew his caretaker did not appreciate being treated as a messenger.  

"There is also one other thing;" he added quickly before the Headmaster dismissed him.  

"What is it, Argus?"

"It's that poltergeist, Sir; I think he's gone mad."

"Whatever do you mean?" Minerva inquired, "Peeves has never been anything but."

"Yeah, well this time he's really done it.  He's gone and dressed every knight and statue on the upper floors with – with bloody undergarments."  Albus chuckled when he heard this and looked up to see a livid Filch.

"Argus, I do not see anything out of character with what Peeves is doing.  He has been known for his mischievousness.  His pranks are nothing new."

"No, you don't understand, Headmaster," he said through tightly pursed lips and blood-shot eyes, "they're m-my smalls and undergarments that – that bloody nut-wraith has got."

"What are you implying?" Minerva asked puzzled.

"What do you think?" Filch growled.  "That bloody poltergeist is in heat; in heat, I tell ya."  Everyone in the room laughed out loud as poor angry Filch stood furiously before them.  His face was contorted with rage as he shook with anger from being laughed at.

"Well, how many undergarments could you possibly have?" Viola teased knowing very well that that was not what Filch was angry about.  "Besides," she said through gasps of air as she tried to control her laughter, "I don't know if you've noticed, Argus, but Peeves is as male as you lot can," Filch glared angrily at the group of Professors as if he did not appreciate being laughed at.

"Yes, Viola, I am well aware of that.  So what is so funny about it?"

"Filch, Peeves is a poltergeist, it's not possible."

"I assure you, professors, it is quite possible."

"What do you mean?" she replied.  "Oh, gods, Filch, you're not suggesting that--."  Filch looked at them with extreme seriousness as they stared back confoundedly.  "Oh, for heavens sake, you can't possibly."

"Well, why not?" he snapped.  "He's been sneaking around my quarters for the past several months at night, following me around, and leaving flowers at my door.  I know it's him, that filthy son of a wraith."

"Calm down, Filch," the Headmaster reassured him.  "I will have a talk with Peeves today.  I am sure there is a reason behind this peculiar behavior of his.  Filch could still hear the muffled giggles in the room as he turned his heel and stormed out.  Dumbledore unfolded the piece of note from Filch and read it quietly to himself.  He then stood up and excused himself from the room.

"Albus," Minerva said worriedly, "is something wrong?"

"No.  I will be back before the staff meeting begins."  And with that he was gone.  Hermione was now left alone with her three colleagues and so had no choice but to join them in their conversation.

"Come, come, child, don't think I didn't notice you trying to ignore my notions for you to join us."

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but I was in no mood for a chat."

"How was your trip?" she said immediately paying no heed to what Hermione was saying.  "Did you have fun?"  She had not waited for Hermione's assent to her curiosity before carrying on.  "Did you even go?  You don't look so tanned for someone who spent the whole afternoon in the sun.  Did you really go?"

"Why do you people keep asking me that?" she snapped.  Minerva arched a brow that made Hermione feel slightly uncomfortable.  She sighed resignedly as she averted her eyes from the older woman's rigid glare.  "It was hot, Minerva," she stressed, "hot, crowded, and sweaty, and I have never been groped so much in my life.  Yes, I went, and I didn't have the least bit of fun.  I was too concerned with getting out of that inferno to worry about a tan which isn't on my list of things-to-do-in-this-lifetime," she said firmly.  "Does that answer your question?"  The three women looked at her with unadorned expressions as if they expected such a response from her.

"My, my, my, aren't we in a bit of a strop today," Vector smirked.  "What side of the desk did you wake up in this morning," she teased as the others laughed at her joke.  

"Very funny; it's nothing I haven't heard before," Hermione said.

"Well here's something you might get a kick out of," Minerva said conspicuously in a soft tone.  "Hagrid and April have been at it again."

"Oh, April," Hermione scowled.  "Why do you do this to Percy?"

"Well it was all Rubeus' idea.  He was quite annoyed with Percy poking his nose around at the hut whenever I visit for a cuppa, you know."

"Cuppa' my knickers," Viola mocked as April nudged her in the ribs.  Hermione, on the other hand, did not look too pleased with their little prank.

"Where did Percy catch you two this time?"

"In the astronomy tower," Minerva answered as Hermione winced at the thought of Percy walking in on Hagrid and April doing whatever it was they did when they were alone.  Hagrid and Sprout had been together since the term ended the previous year, and they had not been able to separate themselves from each other.  Percy was revolted with the idea of them in a relationship though he kept insisting that it was because they were professors and should set an example for the students; everyone knew it was because the idea of Hagrid and Sprout being in such close proximity of each other was just too frightening to think about. 

"Boy, did we give him a fright," April giggled.  "Oh, don't look so glum, Hermione, we were only trying to teach ol' Perce a lesson for snooping around in our business."

"Frankly, I think he deserved it," Minerva asserted.  "I mean, the man is insufferable."

"Minerva!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What?  If I had a sickle for each time that man complained about something I'd use the Philosopher's Stone as a doorstop."

"That's not very nice," she said quietly.  "You know Percy is just trying to do his job; even I still have a hard time believing this relationship," Hermione defended.  "If someone told me ten years ago that my Herbology professor was going to shag the Gamekeeper, I would've cursed them out cold for making such a cruel joke." The other ladies laughed out loud although Hermione had not meant for it to be a joke.  "I don't find it the least bit funny.  You've traumatized the poor man, and he isn't even all that bad."

"Yes, he is," they brayed altogether.   "Darling girl," Minerva said confidently, "I have met many men in my years, and let me tell you, Percy takes the gold."

"You're a cruel woman, Minerva."

"Well, you can go on defending him; you're about the only friend he's got."

"You treat him as if he was the most horrible person you've met; surely you're laying it a bit thick."

"Now, you know we don't mean any of this, Hermione; we're just having a bit of a laugh," she said as she turned her head to the side and winked at Viola and April.  Hermione was used to the older women's playful and sometimes childish behavior.  She had always assumed from her childhood that they were naturally strict and forever reproachful.  She came to find out that they were as mischievous and laid-back as the students.  Playing pranks on each other, and gossiping like little girls.  Hermione found she had to play the adult at times when they got a little out of hand.  They loved to have fun, and picking on poor Percy was one way they wasted their time. 

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in disbelief, "But are you three going to stand there and tell me that you have not put up with someone worse than Percy?"  She watched her colleagues exchange puzzled glances as if they were completely lost with where she was going.

"Oh, for heavens sake," she exclaimed softly, "I can't believe you three."

"What?  If you are thinking of Severus, Hermione, you're wrong."

"Why?" 

"Because I know Severus better than anyone here, other than Albus, of course, and trust me, Severus has his reasons."  Hermione sighed, and rolled her eyes as she shook her head in disappointment.

"Of course, why doesn't it surprise me?  Because he's rude and sarcastic, and makes everyone else's life around him a living hell, then it's perfectly all right, because no one can possibly be that horrible and probably has a reason to be so spiteful.  Well, of course he does!  I mean, I would be bitter too, if I was old and lonely with nothing but my sarcasm to keep me warm at night."  

Minerva, April, and Viola stared baffled at Hermione as she went on about Snape.  They had never seen her insult anyone in all the years they had known her, and it was as if she was talking to herself and completely oblivious to anyone around her.  For a moment, Hermione had not realized that she was saying her thoughts out loud.  She was also not aware that she was being watched from behind.  

"I don't understand how you can stand there and defend that man, Minerva," she said in her usual soft tone, "hasn't he proven more than once that he's as callous as they come."  

Minerva stared at her younger colleague as if she were a complete stranger.  "Please don't look at me like that," she said pleadingly.  "Is it so hard to believe that someone can truly be that horrible?  The man is sardonic to the core, and is heartless and sympathetic to anyone's feelings as well as his own."

"Is that right, Granger?" flowed a familiar silky tone through the room like an undetectable virus.  Hermione snapped out of her stupor and quickly whipped around to meet deep black eyes that pierced right through hers.  She felt a pang of discomfort as she stood precariously in the center of the room with the gazes of her colleagues upon her.  She had not realized that she had said those things about him out loud and had suddenly felt daft for allowing herself to carry on like that.  

There was a reason she never talked about Severus to anyone.  She was afraid if she were ever to say anything; she would lose control of herself and spill all her emotions that she has bottled up for so long.  Minerva, April, and Viola were quiet, yet eager to see how things were going to go.  It had hit them that they had never quite seen Severus or Hermione exchange much more than a word or two since she started working at Hogwarts, and were clueless as to how their row was going to play out.

Severus glided slowly, yet dauntingly towards their little circle and stood slightly to Hermione's side. Hermione met his gaze unflinchingly as she tried her best to seem calm and unperturbed.  A tense silence passed between them as they stood rigidly in such close proximity.  Severus extended his hand out past her and handed Minerva a roll of parchment he had come to give to her before the meeting began.  Hermione shifted slightly as she pretended to ignore the rather steely look in the man's eyes.  She prepared herself and waited for a reprimand –a tongue-lashing, anything.  But nothing came; she felt the tension build between everyone in the room.  Her colleagues waited anxiously for a response from Severus and started to suspect that there was something strange going on with her and Snape when his reproach was slightly delayed.

"What's the matter, Granger?" he said with an unusually composed expression.  "You seemed to be in a row.  Why have you stopped?" his insouciance could not hide the malice she knew he felt.  "I thought you would want me to hear this… or would you rather I turned around so you can say it to my back?"  There was a sharp edge in his voice that belied his calm indifference.   For a second she had almost thought that he seemed hurt with what she said earlier until she reminded herself of the misery he impenitently put her through.

Before Severus headed for his seat at the oval table he leaned quickly towards Hermione and whispered in her ear so none of the other Professors could hear what he said.

"And what makes you think that my sarcasm is the only thing keeping me warm at night." 

Hermione felt a pang of hurt course through her veins, and held back the urge to whack the man with her wand. His words had triggered a pain long repressed.  She contained herself and allowed a moment to collect her wits before she broke down before everyone, especially him.  She was too hurt to retort and felt her hands shaking as she clutched the flaps of her robe tightly.  She wished he had not said those things to her.  'How could he; how dare he?' she felt her heart constrict as she thought these things.  Minerva saw her trembling beneath her robes and could not help but wonder why Hermione did not retaliate as is her wont. 

Things were already looking suspicious; Minerva was looking very troubled by their unusual behavior towards each other.  She started to suspect that there was a tacit history suspended between her two colleagues and wondered if it was why they looked so repugnantly towards one another.  Her suspicions were starting to get the best of her, but she filed the thought away for later.  Dumbledore had walked in with Hagrid, Remus, and the rest of the remaining staff.  Severus had already headed for his seat, leaving Hermione behind him to wallow in her anger.  He knew she desperately wanted to strike him down, and in a way, he was glad; he was glad to know that he still had an effect on her.

** ** **

"Well, before we begin," Dumbledore started, "I would like to thank each and everyone one of you for the work you have done all year round.  Our new term begins in two weeks, and I would just like to give a few words of encouragement.  I am aware that our work here is very strenuous, and at many times, exhausting, but you have all managed to get through each term and come out as better people in the process.  In other words, you are still here and I am grateful for that.  I wish to thank you all each day, but seeing as how we do not meet every day, I will say it now to remind you that your hard work and time is very much appreciated by myself and by our students.  Good luck in the new term and I hope that we will have a wonderful year."  With that came a round of applause and some hearty cheers.  Albus sat down and resumed with their staff meeting.

"It seems that everything has been going very well this past year," Dumbledore continued, "so we have very few issues to discuss today and some reminders.  But first, I would like to welcome Severus back from his trip.  Welcome, Severus.  It is always a pleasure to see your face; I have missed you terribly."  Snape jerked his brow slightly to the side in irritation as he tried to ignore the round of applause they gave him.

"Well!" Remus exclaimed.  "I wasn't aware you had left, Severus."  Snape shot him an ill look as he curled his lip into a sneer.

"And why does that not surprise me," he muttered under his breath.

"Where did you go?" Percy asked curiously.

"None of your business.  Now, is this a staff meeting, or a lounge?  I would like to get this meeting over with so I can get back to my office.  You see, unlike the rest of you, I have more important things to do than sitting around and wasting air."

"Severus is right," Dumbledore cut in.  "We still have much work to do around the castle before the children arrive.  I just have a few things I would like to point out, and if any of you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to speak.  First on our agenda is the vote for Head Girl and Boy.  Our four Head of Houses have selected their choices for Head Girl and Boy and everyone will cast a vote and decide who you believe is trustworthy as well as reliable to carry out such responsibilities and duties.  Remember that we want a young lady and a gentleman most students can relate to or trust for help.  I trust all of you for an honest decision and hope that you consider all the other Houses other than your own."  Minerva read the list from each House out loud:

"From Hufflepuff: Miss Jennifer Radcliffe and Mr. Adam Wilson.  From Ravenclaw: Miss Ethel Harmon and Mr. Frederick Beaumont.  From Slytherin: Miss Annessa Bailey and Mr. Stephen French.  From Gryffindor: Miss Ehlaana Mae and Mr. Michael Radford.  Please cast your votes and pass them in."  The staff immediately took out their quills and cast their votes.   

After a few minutes, the ballots were counted and Minerva read out the chosen Head Boy and Head Girl.  "Mr. Frederick Beaumont and Miss Ehlaana Mae will be our new Head Boy and Girl."  The staff nodded in assent and gave another round of applause; everyone except Severus.  Dumbledore noticed an unpleasantness in his face and wondered if there was something bothering him.

"Severus," he said amid the soft murmurs and applauses of the staff, "is there something wrong?"  Severus shook his head in reply and cursed inwardly for the Headmaster's inquisitiveness.  "Are you sure, Severus?  You do not look too happy with our choice of Head Boy and Girl."

"Remind me," he responded cynically, "why it really matters, if I am the only one here who disagrees with this decision."

"What do you not agree with in particular, Severus?" the Headmaster asked pensively.

"That not one of them is Slytherin," McGonagall muttered harshly under her breath."  Severus shot his rival Head of House a nasty look before turning to the Headmaster.

"Is it just me, Headmaster, or does no one else notice that Miss Mae has somehow adopted certain – er – Longbottom traits?"

"Miss Mae, Severus," Minerva exclaimed, "is a sweet, honest girl.  She may be a bit clumsy sometimes, but she has a good heart.  She has always been picked on, the poor thing, and I trust you to use those faults against her."

"Miss Mae, Minerva, is as accident-prone as she is unsociable."

"And what do you have against those who are unsociable, Severus," she asked sarcastically.  Hermione stared at her Head of House in disbelief.  She could not believe how this woman can bicker repeatedly with Severus and still defend the man when anyone else has something to say about him.  It was unbelievable.

"Does anyone else disagree on this matter or have anything to say?" Dumbledore asked.  When no one nodded or responded, Snape simply rolled his eyes and ignored them.  He figured they would all think alike.  He was getting very irritated, and if he were not used to his colleagues constant discrepancy with everything he said, he would have blown something off by now.

"Then I believe this matter is settled," Dumbledore said, "I trust that both students will do an excellent job as Head Boy and Girl.  And now, on to the next matter on our agenda, I believe Percy had something pressing he wanted to state today."

"Yes, Headmaster, thank you for the opportunity.  First of all, I would like to remind you of Professors Sprout and Hagrid's 'love rendezvous' here in the castle.  I think it is very unprofessional to carry on with this relationship while they are employed here at Hogwarts.  They need to set an example for the children, not behave like them.  To continue on with this relationship is encouraging the students that it is okay and very easy to sneak around the castle for a late-night tryst.  It is unorthodox and I would very much appreciate it if you would convince them of the point I am coming from, Headmaster.  Thank you."

Minerva stared savagely at Percy knowing very well April and Hagrid had been purposely meeting in the castle to drive him mad, but she did not care.  

"Now, you listen to me, Mr. Weasley--" Minerva started.

"That's Professor Weasley, Headmistress, if you will."  Minerva's eyes glazed over with fury as she contained herself from lunging forth and wringing Percy's neck.

"I don't see any crime being committed here; what April and Hagrid do on their time off is their business, Professor.  They are aware of their behavior, and also aware that it is their break.  The children are not back for another couple of weeks, and until then they are free to do as they please wherever they choose.  They do have lives too, you know.  I don't see why you brought this matter up because you caught the two of them holding hands on the Astronomy Tower."

"Holding hands?  Holding hands?" he huffed appallingly.  "My dear lady, groping on the tower is not what we call holding hands nowadays."

"Nowadays, Percy?" she repeated menacingly.  "Are you implying, Mr. Weasley, that I am an old bat who can't tell the difference between two grown adults verging on impropriety and a simple innocent embrace?"

"I assure you, my eyes have not deceived me, Professor.  I saw what I saw, and let me tell you, it was far from innocent.  This tryst has gone on long enough, and I cannot believe that you are all fine with such indecent behavior.  This is a learning institution for Merlin's sake, not a house of mirth."

"That will be all, Percy," Dumbledore interrupted.  "I will have a word with Hagrid and April tonight, but Minerva is right.  We are not here to just teach and live like teachers.  You all have your lives and they should not be put on hold because you feel it is improper for a teacher to have fun.  The summer is at your disposal; I encourage you all to enjoy it.  I am sure, Percy, that April and Hagrid will not exhibit their relationship to the children while they are here, am I correct?" he asked turning to April and Hagrid as they nodded in acquiescence.  "Good.  I believe that that is settled then."  Percy bit his tongue and pursed his lips in disagreement.  Trust the Headmaster to take their side, he thought to himself.

"Is there any other matters that need to be brought up?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, there is one more thing, Headmaster," Percy interrupted.  Everyone heaved a sigh as Severus held his head resignedly in his hands whilst he muttered execrations under his breath.  "You see, I wondered if it could be arranged for me to take my seventh year class for a field trip this year.  Last term, it was a bit irritating for me to teach History of Magic when the children have clearly never seen, been, or even heard of some of our historical landmarks.  I think it would do for a great assignment.  Do you think it could be arranged with the Ministry?  It does not violate any rules or regulations."  

Hermione looked surprised with Percy and his request.  She was sure as well as everyone else that he would be complaining about something.  But he had surprised them all with his plan for a field trip.  This request had slightly lifted her spirits – taking her mind off of her earlier row with Snape.  "I think it is a wonderful idea, Percy, and I support you all the way," she said softly.  She never really spoke at the meetings unless she absolutely had to, and Severus as well as the others was surprised when she spoke.  "If you need any help, I would love to be of some assistance," she added.  She wanted Snape to see that his earlier revelation had no affect on her, although she knew it was a little too late for that.

"Thank you, Hermione," he replied, quite pleased.

"I also think it is a wonderful idea, Percy, and I shall speak with the Ministry and see what they can do for you.  If no one has any other requests," Dumbledore waited silently for anyone and carried on when no one answered.  "Very well, I have an announcement I would like to make.  I am sure that you have all noticed our dear Irma is not with us today.  I am sad to say that she will be leaving us for a while."  A soft murmur sounded throughout the room as their curiosities peaked.  "Irma has asked that I informed you all of her leave.  Do not worry; she will only be gone for six months."

"Albus, is she all right?" Minerva looked very worried and was slightly heated that Albus had not informed her of this matter before today.

"She's fine, dear; she's as healthy as an ox.  Her daughter though, is not.  Elaine is married to a Muggle doctor and will be going through surgery next month.  Irma wishes to be there for her and see that she is taken care of.  This is a very big step for her--she has not taken a single day off since she started here--and I hope you all support her and wish her well."

"We will have to hold a party for her," said Viola.  

"She will not be too pleased with that," added Isabella Sinistra.  "Knowing Irma, she would think that we were celebrating her leaving," she said with a smile.

"Well, nonetheless, we will hold a small party for her anyway," Minerva said.  "We are too busy with the new term preparations to plan her party now, so we'll hold it the week after school starts.  We'll have time after the first week of term has passed."

"Very good, so that covers most of our meeting today, and Minerva, please remember to send our new Head Girl and Head Boy their badges."  The staff started to stand up to leave when Dumbledore stopped them.  "Hold on, children, I have not ended this meeting.  I have one more thing I would like to announce.  This year, we will have a new student with us here at Hogwarts."  The professors looked at their Headmaster as if he were mad, and sat down immediately to hear his announcement.

"Do you mean one that isn't a first year?" Remus asked curiously.

"Yes, Remus; the young man is actually a seventh year.  Most everyone exchanged excited looks as the Headmaster continued with his announcement.  "He is from France and has been attending Beauxbatons for the past six years.  I do not know much of this matter, and was informed just recently about his joining us here at Hogwarts.  Please see to it that he feels welcomed and at home.  This young man has gone through much and has nowhere else to go.  I have nothing more to say on this matter, so good luck on our new term, and you are all free to leave."

Everyone stayed back and chatted about Irma and the new student they were going to have.  Dumbledore excused himself because he had matters to discuss with some Ministry officials.  Snape and Hermione left as well.  She was sure Snape couldn't give a rat's ass about the new student or Irma's leave of absence. And as interested as she was with the new student, she was too hurt and angry to stay behind and chat.  She headed for her office as she did each night she needed a place of solitude.  She kept replaying in her head what Severus whispered in her ear earlier.  The thought of him in bed with anyone else disgusted her.  She had never truly hated anyone as much as she hated that man.  Severus had once again managed to get under her skin, and today was the day she was going to finally let go of him.  

**!**!**!**!**

Note:  My thanks to Shannon for the wonderful beta-ing on this chapter.  

Miss Ehlaana and Jenny Radcliffe is borrowed from Wiktt's: Jeannete and Jenny Radcliffe, Thanks guys. 

Also, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed 'Zephyr'.  You have all left very constructive as well as wonderful reviews, and I am very grateful for that.  I am glad that you are enjoying the story so far despite its very slow updates and developments.  It really means a lot and inspires me to write more and update faster.  Feel free to drop me an email if you have any questions.  Of course, a review wouldn't hurt either ;p  So go ahead and press that review button. :p   

,Zoe

***


	6. A New Term

Chapter Six

The New Term

The beginning of the new school year, as always, was hectic.  The first years were particularly boisterous and excited rather than scared and nervous.  It was probably due to the fact that Sprout was the one to greet them in the Great Hall when they arrived.  Minerva had requested that Severus should be the one to greet them, but Dumbledore insisted that having Severus as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was frightening enough for the newcomers than to have him greet them at the front door, as well.  Severus was quite content with that decision.  He never enjoyed welcoming the little rats anyway.

The Sorting Feast went fairly well or at least without any mishaps.  All the children were sorted into their appropriate Houses and were then led by their Head of House to their common rooms.  The first years found Dumbledore's speech before the Sorting Feast rather intriguing--the Forbidden Forest in particular.  They were also aware that the hooked-nose Professor with the murderous look in his eyes was one not to be trifled with.  The Slytherin first years were especially scared when their upperclassmen informed them that Snape was their Head of House.

"Piss him off on the first day," said the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Stephen French, "and he'll turn you into an elf and send you to the kitchens to slave away with the others.  And trust me; the last thing you want to get turned into is an elf.  They're hairy, smelly, undernourished, and have more fleas than the gamekeeper." 

"The gamekeeper's got fleas?" said Jake Wanostrocht, a muggle first year who was shaking from head to toe." 

"Haven't you noticed that he's a giant?"

"G-giant?"

"Yeah," he whispered, "we've got giants, werewolves, centaurs, elves, half-plants" he said in mock reference to Professor Sprout, "ghosts, trolls; you name it we've got it, oh, and Snape."  Poor Jake was as pale as the Bloody Baron.  Stephen and his clique had a ball frightening Jake till he actually cried.  From that day on he was always bullied among the Slytherins and teased as 'Mandrake Jake, or Sniffles.'  Of course, you couldn't expect anything less from Stephen and his clique of Slytherins.  They thrived on bullying the underclassmen, especially Slytherins with Gryffindor traits.  The two Houses were ever contending and never getting along.  It seemed to get worse each year.  To list the number of pranks pulled between the two Houses last year would be as time-consuming as counting the stars.  This year seemed to be no different; the Seventh years were just as savage and boorish as the mountain giants, and were looking forward to as much chaos for the new term as they did the previous years.

Stephen French was as nasty and unruly as any Malfoy—seeing as how he was related to them—and his best friend, Sarco Montague was slick, sly, and horny.  He bedded nearly anything that walked and had a hole.  Stephen was pickier, preferring only to bed those who played hard-to-get and were actually worth a second glance.  Annessa Bailey had been on top of his list since his first year, but his attempts to pull had only made her despise him even more than she did before.

"Hey, babe," he called out as she passed him and his clique of desperados.

"Bite me, Stephen!" she drawled slightly.  Michelle Grey, her best friend, shot him a look of distaste.

"Gods Stephen, could you be even more petty than you already are?"

"What?  You want some of this, too," he countered as he grabbed his crotch and groped it in a disgusting manner.  

"You stupid fuck!" Michelle snapped.  Her remark only earned a series of barks from Sarco and him.  They barked like dogs in heat and anxious to mate.  The large group of girls flanking Michelle and Annessa seemed to find the two boys' behavior rather attractive and funny—all except Michelle and Annessa, of course.  They had more class than the group of sycophantic fans that usually tagged along with them.  There was not one student at Hogwarts that was worthy of Annessa's attention.  There was-- however a particular someone who she felt was worthy of her, and had been for some time.  

********

The first week was the most tedious for Hermione.  Going through the most basic knowledge for Potions-making was very irritating.  'I should not have to be teaching this,' she thought to herself.  'This is very simple material that should have been covered over the summer.'  Hermione thought the first years** should have studied or at least**** looked over the book before their first term started**.**  When her class of first years came in, she gave the same speech she had been giving for the past two years:**

"I am your Potions Mistress, Hermione Granger.  You may address me as Professor Granger, or Ma'am.  I will lay rules in my class that I expect each and every one of you to abide by and respect.  I will not tolerate any childish behavior in my dungeons and will see to it that you are disciplined for any misbehavior.  I will also deduct points from your respective Houses if you are ever to break or disrespect myself or my rules.  Dare to disrupt my class, and I will dismiss you so you can spend your valuable time elsewhere.  I expect all homework to be completed before it is turned in.  There should be no reason to not finish, do, lose, or forget your homework.  Ever!  Unless it is a matter of life or death, only then will it be excused, and you will be given one chance and exactly twelve hours to complete and turn in your homework.  If you fail to do your assignments, I will make sure that you have twice the homework than everyone else who took the time to complete their assignments.

"Quidditch, Quidditch matches, or tryouts are absolutely no reason to abandon your homework.  I will especially deduct points for anyone who dares to use it as an excuse.  Potions is a very complicated and intricate subject.  Master it and you will become an artist; fail, and it will only result in a slash of your overall grade.  It will require the best of your knowledge and all of your attention.  Fail to do so, and it could result in injuries and possibly death.  If you think that you can pass this class by writing down a few notes and tossing a few roots into a pot, then you are in for a surprise.  Every potion I assign will be challenging.  Add the wrong ingredient at the wrong time, and you can blow up your cauldron and injure yourself as well as your partner and those around you.  

"Every little detail matters; how you stir your potion, the ingredients you use, how much you add, and the exact time you toss them in.  These are all important factors to a successful potion.  If you are not vigilant, you are sure to fail this class.  If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask me, your partner, or another classmate.  Do not, and I repeat, do not mix, brew, or add anything to your potion if you are unsure of the result.  There are many ingredients in my cupboard that will detonate immediately in your cauldron if they are added together.

"All the needed ingredients will be found in the back cupboard.  The cauldrons will be left on the desk when the class is over.  And I expect all of you to return the ingredients back into the cupboards after each lesson.  If I ever catch anyone sneak into my dungeons, steal my ingredients, or vandalize my classroom, I will deduct fifty points from their Houses, and put them in detention for a whole week.  If you respect these rules, pay attention, and complete all homework then everything should be fine.  If you have any questions, ask them now before we begin our class."

The entire class was dead silent and pinned frozen in their seats as Hermione's brief speech scared them witless.  If they thought they were frightened before, they were mistaken.  Hermione knew her first impression on them was most important:  if she did not come down on them hard, she was sure to have trouble with them in the future.  She understood how they felt and how frightening it was to be a first year, but this was necessary to ensure an undisrupted class and that they left each day having learned something new.  She had done a good job scaring them, though she had almost pitied them when she remembered that they had not had Snape yet.

**** ** ** ****

Snape's first class for the day was the seventh year Gryffindors, his most preferable bunch to taunt and torment.  He was grateful he did not have any first years till after lunch.  He despised giving his first speech.  He especially despised first years.  They were like babies right out of the cradle: whiny, unlearned, and immature.  It was his job to snap them out of their reverie and introduce them to the real world.  Oh, goody, he thought sardonically.__

Snape walked in to a quiet and still classroom.  His students had a lot of practice and knew very well what they should do to make it through his class alive.  They kept their mouths shut, remained completely still, and prayed that he did not call upon them during class.  Snape stood before the stock-still class and made sure they got a shot of his sullen expression before reprimanding them for no reason at all.

"Is there a reason you are all lounging around without your quills and texts out, or are you all too brilliant for my class?"  The students quickly rummaged through their bags for their quills, and texts as Snape stood impatiently before them with his arms folded.  If there was one thing he despised more than teaching first years, it was teaching seventh years that acted like them.    

"Turn your texts to page 32; I don't want any interruption for the first half of the class.  If you have any questions, keep them to yourselves.  If your brains are too slow to register the information at the speed that I give it, then remove yourself from my class immediately.  I do not want you to waste my valuable time.  I have barely enough patience with just having to look at your faces; don't try it by wasting my time."  When no one stood up to leave, he continued on with his class.

"Good.  Write down these notes and memorize them by tomorrow morning.  I will give an extensive quiz on the cataclysm of magic on Wednesday.  To defend yourselves from the curses of Dark Magic is to learn its dark arts and its calamities," he said with extreme austerity and obvious dislike for the students.  Snape noticed his class was deathly silent—too silent for even his class; he could possibly hear a pin if it were to drop.  He glared ominously at the devious brats trying extremely hard to look interested in what he was saying and sneered at their cheap attempts to trick him.  "Well, what are you all waiting around for?  Are you writing this down, or do you want me to do that for you, as well?"  As hard as Snape tried to find one student who dared to look him in the eyes, he could not find one.  They had all learned from past experience how to look straight at him with feigned attention while avoiding his steely eyes.

"Miss Mae!" he snapped.  Ehlaana Mae looked up to see the piercing glare of her professor and shook before he had the chance to tear her down.  Miss Mae was an easy target for him.  She was so cumbersome and uncoordinated; Snape could never resist scaring the wits out of her.  What she lacked in grace she made up for in dramatic misfortunes.  Her very breathing was so tense one would think she had murdered someone.  If she were not a Mae, one would think she descended from the Longbottom family tree.

"Miss Mae, what is the difference between black arts and black magic?"  A simple question, probably the simplest thing he hadever asked a student.  But one could not count on Miss Mae to get it right.

"S-sorry S-sir, w-what was your q-question?" she trembled.  Snape's sullen expression had turned into a menacing glare.  

"Remind me, Miss Mae why someone with a brain the size of a gillyweed was appointed Head Girl of this Institution!"  Poor Ehlaana was so frightened and embarrassed she could not have said a word if she were under the Impediment Curse.

"In what circumstances would you need to use an extinguishing spell when there is absolutely no fire around?" he continued.  He knew the student would not get even the simplest question.  Whether she did not know or was too afraid to answer, he did not care in the least.  He just wanted to embarrass her and show the class that she could not answer at least one 'first year' question of the many queries he asked.  "What particular creature dwells in a fire pool, Miss Mae?  And what creature would you be facing if you were to cast a Severing charm immediately after a Silencing Charm."  When Ehlaana did not answer he grew very angry and impatient.

"Is there anything, Miss Mae, that you _do know?"  Tears had formed in the Head Girl's eyes, and the entire class felt nothing but sympathy for her.  But even they would not dare to stand up to Snape and his despisal for Miss Mae.  Their Gryffindor qualities did not quite kick in when they entered Snape's classroom.  And although Miss Mae was a Gryffindor and a part of their House, that was no great reason to get reprimanded and embarrassed by Snape, especially when he seemed particularly mad or nervous about something.  Ehlaana was trying extremely hard to stop the tears from flowing out of her eyes, but the harder she tried the more she cried and she knew this only fed Snape's dislike for her.  "Answer me, Miss Mae!  Why do you even bother to return to school when your brain clearly lacks intellect and the basic ability to function?"  This had done it for Miss Mae.  She was sobbing convulsively in her hands, trying as hard as she could to cover her flushed face from the entire class.  She stood up quickly to run for the door, only to trip on her way there.  Her eyes were so bleary she could barely see where she was going.  She hastily stood up and made her way for the door, again only to be stopped by Snape._

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked harshly.  Ehlaana turned and stared with dreadful eyes, unsure of how to respond.  The one time she actually dared to run out of class—and Snape's class—no less, she got stopped by him and embarrassed some more.  

"Well?  Where do you think you're going?"

"I-I—

"What?" he asked with an arched brow. 

"P-please, P-proff--

"Sit down!"

"B-b-but—

"I said," he demanded, "SIT DOWN!"  Ehlaana obediently returned to her seat, feeling completely humiliated.  As hard as she tried, she could not stop crying.  The knot in her chest lingered there throughout the entire class, reminding her of her humiliation and hurt, making the tears flow more freely from her eyes.  Snape was relentless, and he was feeling particularly angry or nervous about something that day.  ****

How Snape managed to drag himself through each class was beyond him.  He wondered why he put himself through such torture.  His blasted students were as unbearable as the Cruciatus Curse, and he would have gladly suffered two curses at the moment than the tedium of teaching such dull-headed students.  If it were not for Dumbledore, he would have wrung someone's neck by now.

There was no doubt in Severus' mind that it was going to be a long year for him; an extremely long year indeed.

** ** ** **

The first half of the day was over.  There was a buzz of excitement in the Great Hall during lunch.  Hermione overheard some of the students gossiping as she was walking towards her seat at the high table.  Apparently, a student who was excused to go to the rest room during his first class had caught a glimpse of a visitor who had arrived with Dumbledore.  "He was tall with silver hair," she heard one say.  "No, she was a veela and was accompanied by the Minister," was another, and her favorite: "She's here to replace Professor Granger."  Hermione figured the new student from Beauxbatons had arrived with Dumbledore, and she was devilishly eager to see the looks of disappointment on her students' faces when they realized that she wasn't going anywhere…yet.

Snape was not in his seat during lunch.  Hermione wondered why, though she told herself repeatedly that she could not care less what that man did.  Dumbledore was chatting cheerfully with Hagrid about the new term and how the day was when Hermione realized she had forgotten the Graveweed Potion Hagrid had asked her to brew for his thestrals.  She cursed inwardly, as she knew that it would take her nearly half her lunch break to get down to the dungeons and back with the potion; by then, she'd barely have time to sniff her food.  She could get it for him later on, but Hagrid had asked her for it two days ago, and she did not want to look as if she had not brewed the potion.  So reluctantly, Hermione turned around and headed for her dungeons.

When Hermione arrived at her dungeons, she unwarded her doors, grabbed the potion, and was just about to head back up to the Great Hall for lunch when her foot hit the leg of one of her desks.  Hermione tripped and fell flat on her face, smashing the Graveweed potion all over the hard floor.  She cursed out loud as the stench from the potion reeked in her dungeons.  She incanted '_Scourgify__' and quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor.  She threw her cupboards open and snatched the needed ingredients to make a new batch for Hagrid.  She was sure to miss lunch. 'But it wouldn't be the first time,' she thought; 'Damn Hagrid and his thestrals.'    _

With a quick swish of her wand, Hermione's cauldron was heated, and she threw the dry ingredients into the pot to boil.  It took her a few minutes to chop up her porcupine quills, scarab beetles, and daisy root.  She especially hated mixing the fluxweed juice with the Atropine.  It made for a poisonous concoction that would burn a hole through one's throat if one were to drink it, and gave off an awful stench.  After fifteen minutes she lowered the heat and brought it to a simmer before turning it off and placing a cooling charm on the cauldron.  The potion would have to sit for several hours before it was ready.  Hermione stowed the ingredients back in the cupboard before cleaning up and put a protection charm on Hagrid's potion; she would wring somebody's neck if she had to redo the potion again.  With that, Hermione warded her doors again and headed back up to the Great Hall to eat whatever was left of lunch.

On her way up, Hermione stopped abruptly in the corridor on the west wing of the first floor when she heard a muffled cry.  She followed the direction of the cry when it brought her to a hidden nook beside a stone statue of an ancient looking elf holding a scepter.  A tiny figure was crouched on the floor.  Hermione nudged the figure gently, and was met with sad brown eyes that reminded her of herself when she was a student.  She recognized the girl as Miss Ehlaana Mae, the new Head Girl.  Her tear stained face was a deep blush and the tip of her nose was swollen red.

"Miss Mae, what on earth are you doing down there?" she asked the distraught student.  "What's the matter; has something happened to you?"  The young lady shook her head in reply as she stood up.  

"I'm sorry, Professor Granger; I didn't mean to miss lunch, I just--"

"Why are you hiding here?  Did someone hurt you?"

"I wasn't hiding, Professor," she said softly, the tears still spilling down her face.

"Well then, what are you doing here?" she asked firmly, hoping she would get a straight answer.

"I was p-pushed, Professor," she lied.  "S-someone shoved me in here and I banged my head on the stone scepter."  Ehlaana softly brushed her fringe from her forehead and showed Hermione the deep cut above her brow.  Ehlaana was so eager to hide in the small niche she was in she accidentally bumped her head on the stone scepter.  Hermione believed her and was furious with the uncouth behavior of her students.  She shook her head and helped Ehlaana out of the tight niche she was in.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Mae.  Did you catch who did this to you?"  Ehlaana shook her head tentatively as Hermione led her up to the infirmary.  "Are you sure, Ehlaana?  You don't have to protect them, you know.  This type of behavior is not tolerated in this school.  You have the title of Head Girl; you should be respected, Miss Mae, not shoved into a corner."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I swear I don't know who it was that pushed me."

"Well, if you ever find out who it is, please inform me or the Deputy Headmistress.  I will let her know what happened."  Hermione was startled when Ehlaana hastily grabbed on to her arm.

"Oh, you're not going to tell anyone else about this, are you Professor?"  Hermione felt sorry for the poor girl; she reminded Hermione so much of herself when she was in Hogwarts.  If it were not for Harry and Ron, she had no idea how she would have made it through the first year.  She wished Miss Mae would get a Harry and Ron just like she did.  'Well, it's her last year, and she's managed to get through the previous six alive,' Hermione thought.  But she still wished things would go slightly better for Ehlaana this year than they had before.

"Now, go inside and inform Madame Pomfrey of what happened.  I'll need to go back to my dungeons; class will be starting soon."  Ehlaana nodded before Hermione left her.  It had been yet another day where Hermione missed lunch.'I'm bound to miss more throughout the term,' she thought when the bell rang for class.  She would just have to call on Winky tonight when she returned to her quarters.    

She hated calling on Winky.  Just looking at the elf brought back painful feelings and memories.  It had been a long time ago when she broke down completely in her private quarters as Head Girl, and Winky was the only one there to comfort her.  Of all the people, she would have never thought that Winky would be the one to comfort her in her greatest time of need.  Winky was still the only living creature who knew about her ugly past, and she trusted that the elf would never say a word about it to anyone.  But despite her love for the elf, Hermione could not pretend she did not hurt each time she looked at Winky.  The elf triggered so many emotions that Hermione avoided calling on her as much as she could.  Tonight she would not have a choice.  She would have to watch over Hagrid's potion and make sure it was not defective when she gave it to Hagrid.  Therefore, she would be missing her dinner as well.  The day seemed to drag on, and nothing seemed to be going well for Hermione's first day back for the new term.

** ** ** ** **

That night, just as she expected, Hermione missed her dinner so she could stay in her dungeons and monitor the progress of the Graveweed potion she had promised Hagrid.  She did not really need to be there, but it was a good thing she had decided to stay behind anyway, because the fumes from the Atropine she had added had somehow caused the cooling charm she had cast around the potion to wear off.  If the potion had sat for more than an hour above 30 degrees Celsius, it would have detonated in her dungeons.  Hermione had cast another cooling charm and added more water to her potion before she covered it again and cast a protection charm over it, just in case someone decided to sneak into her class for some ingredients.  After being friends with Harry and Ron, she expected the worse from her students.  After an hour of grading some homework while she waited for the potion to be ready, Hermione felt her stomach rumbling as it signaled its hunger to her mind.  Hermione had held off on calling Winky, and finally gave in when she felt she could pass out if she did not get anything to eat.

"Winky," she called out softly.  Instantly, Winky showed up with a huge smile on her face and a tray of food.

"Winky is waiting all night for you to call, Miss.  Winky knows you isn't eating tonight, so Winky brings you food."  The elf carefully placed the tray of food on her desk before sitting across from her desk to watch her eat.  Hermione thanked her as she took the bowl of soup and ate.  She started to feel uncomfortable with Winky sitting across from her table, staring at her while she ate.

"Is there anything else, Winky?" she said politely.

"No, Miss, Winky is sitting here and waiting till Miss is finish.  Winky is very worried about Miss Granger."  Hermione knew very well where this was going.

"Winky, please, I don't want to get into it right now with you."

"Winky isn't getting into anything, Miss Granger," she squeaked softly.  "Winky is being a very good friend to you; Winky takes care of you."  Hermione couldn't help but feel grateful for the elf's loyalty and compassion towards her.  So she allowed the elf to sit there and stare as she ate.  Hermione had been quietly eating her soup for a few minutes when she was startled by Winky.

"Winky really missed you, Miss," she said out of the blue.  Hermione looked up to meet big brown sympathetic eyes.  She didn't know how to respond to that.  She loved Winky, though she had a feeling Winky was trying to say something, but was reluctant.

"Winky, what's wrong?"

"Oh!  Nothing, Miss, nothing at all; Winky is so happy to see Miss Granger and take care of her."

"Well, you know I've been here for a while now, Winky.  Two years to be exact."

"Yes, but Miss never calls for Winky.  Winky is waiting patiently every night for Miss to call her, but Winky waits and waits and never--."

"I've called you before, Winky," she said through spoonfuls of soup.

"Only that much," the elf responded as she held up four fingers; two on the left and two on the right.  Hermione felt guilty and knew then that Winky had been worrying about her all those years.  She knew the elf wanted to bring up the past and ask how she had been doing since, but Hermione had already gotten over that and would be damned if she brought it all up again.  She was long over it.  It was a mistake that could have been prevented if she were not so gullible and eager to fall in love.  She no longer cared about that part of her life, she told herself repeatedly at night and in her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Winky, but I'm teaching Potions now and it's very time-consuming.  I have to teach during the day and test potions all night.  I also have to brew potions for the Infirmary, and the Gamekeeper, as well as anyone else who needs it.  I barely have time to sit and think, but I do think about you all the time," she lied.

"Oh, and Winky is thinking of Miss all the time too."  Hermione smiled at the elf and left it at that.  She was eager to finish her soup and leave their conversation where it was before it went further in to the topic of her past.

"Why did Miss come back?"  Hermione looked up in surprise, unable to make a reply.  She shook her head slightly and shrugged.

"Minerva asked me to, Winky; I said no, of course, but in the end she manipulated me into coming.  She said it was just until they find a replacement, and it's been over two years and I haven't seen a replacement yet."

"That is not right to bring Miss back.  Miss McGonagall is wrong to—"

"Winky, it's okay.  She doesn't know about that, and I would really appreciate it if you and I never talk about it.  Ever!"  They both remained silent and Hermione felt bad for snapping at Winky; she had suddenly lost her appetite.  Hermione pushed her food away as the elf quickly went for it.  Hermione thanked her and sent her away.  Reluctantly, Winky obeyed and left.

Just when Hermione thought she could finally head for her quarters and retire, there was a knock at the door.  Hermione unwarded the large oak doors and opened them to see Dumbledore standing outside.  "Did I come in a bad time?" the Headmaster asked.

"No, I was just about to head to my room.  Is something wrong?"

"No, no, we all missed you at dinner."

"I'm very sorry; I had to brew a potion for Hagrid.  It's for the thestrals and he needed it right away."

"There is no need to apologize, Hermione.  I have come down to inform you that the new student from Beauxbatons arrived today and will be starting his classes tomorrow.  I had already introduced him at dinner in the Great Hall.  He received a very good reaction from the children, and I think that he will get along fine here."

"Where will he stay?"

"He has been sorted into the Gryffindor House."

"Gryffindor; interesting!  I'll be looking forward to meeting…"

"Mr. Thierry," Minerva supplemented, as she came down the stairs.  "Nicolas Thierry."  Hermione and Albus turned to the side to see Minerva walking towards them.

"Minerva, is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked as she arrived at the door.

"No, I just came to have a word with Hermione."  Hermione had dreaded this all week and last.  She had a feeling she knew exactly what her inquisitive colleague wanted to talk about.

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore before he turned to leave.  "I will leave you two ladies to your chat.  I just came to inform you, dear, that Mr. Thierry will be in class tomorrow."

"Thank you.  Good night!"  
"Good night, dear."  Albus placed a soft kiss on Minerva's cheek before he left the two women to stare quietly at each other.  

"Well, woman, are you going to invite me in, or leave me standing here to stare at the grime accumulating on your hinges?"  Hermione reluctantly pushed her doors open and gestured for Minerva to step inside. She hoped for the older woman's sake that she had not come to talk about what she suspected she came to see her for.

"Is something wrong, Minerva?" she drawled slightly. 

"Yes!  Now sit down child, I'm not going anywhere until I've had my talk with you."

"Can it wait, because I'm knackered from all the fun I've had today?" she said sarcastically, clearly not in the mood for the character assassination she was sure to get out of the hour-long questioning her Head of House came for.

"Hermione," Minerva said sternly, "sit down!"  It was clearly a demand, and Hermione, having been respectful of this woman her whole childhood, sauntered over to her desk and sat down.  

"I'm worried about you, and I don't want to hear you say that you're fine.  I know something has been bothering you, and I want to know what it is.  Now, Albus has told me to steer clear from you and to not question you and your sudden disappearance all those years--" Hermione looked disbelievingly towards Minerva when she said this. 

"—yes, Hermione, Albus had asked me to leave you alone when you finally agreed to work here, but I can't sit around anymore and wait for you to open up to me and tell me what is wrong with you."

Hermione could not believe what she was hearing.  She was too angry with the older woman prying into her business to say anything.  She could not decide if she wanted to scream or tell Minerva that it was not her concern what she did with her life.  

"What's wrong with me?" she repeated appallingly.  "Tell me, Minerva what it is exactly that is wrong with me!  I would surely love to know."

"Oh don't you play green with me, child.  You're spiteful when someone shows the slightest concern for you—

"Well, it does get tiring, you know," she countered quickly as Minerva went on.

"—you're never at dinner—"

"I'm a Potions mistress, Minerva; I have potions to brew," she said cynically.

"You're as cynical as an old hag."

"And what do you have against old hags?" she said surprisingly though the older woman ignored her every counter as she went on reprimanding her younger colleague.

"You don't smile, you don't laugh, and you never have fun."

"And when exactly do you want me to be jovial, Minerva?  Is it when I'm putting my students in detention or sitting through one of you and Percy's biweekly rows?"

"What have I done to you to make you so angry with me?"

"Not everything is about you, Minerva."

"Then talk to me, Child."

"There is nothing to talk about."  The two women had gotten louder and louder, their voices bouncing off the dungeon walls as they argued suddenly without quite realizing it.  Hermione had never dreamt that she would ever raise her voice to McGonagall, but the older woman's constant intrusion into her business had angered her immensely.  They were both so angry they had not realized they were shouting at each other.

"If there really isn't anything to talk about, then why are you so bitter?"

"Why haven't you found my replacement?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Is that what this is about, a replacement?"

"Why, Minerva?  Why did you lie?  Why did you go through all that trouble lying to me just to get me here?"

"--Because Dumbledore wanted you here; I don't know why, but that's what he wanted."

"So there will be no replacement, then?"

"If you want a replacement, I will get you one," she said, slightly hurt.  "I just don't understand why you can't stand being here."

"Well, I'm here aren't I, and I'm doing my job.  I don't see what the problem is."

"Do you think that we just want you here to teach?  If we needed a professor for Potions we could easily get one, Hermione.  Maybe one that is not as good as either you or Severus, but one could be found."

"Then what am I doing here?" she exclaimed.  "Why did that man drag me back to this hellhole when he knew I couldn't come back?  Doesn't he know the pain I go through just being in these dungeons?" she cried.  Hermione had completely lost control of her temper.  She could not hold off her tears any longer.  She had almost felt as if it was Severus she was screaming at.  She wanted some answers; she wanted the truth.  Dumbledore had brought her back there for a reason and she needed to know why.  Why would he subject her to such torture when he knew that she and Severus would be in the same castle together?

Minerva stood stock-still and speechless.  She had no idea that Hermione was going through such pain, suppressing such anger and bottling it all inside.  She wanted to kill Dumbledore.  She had always suspected that there was a good reason Hermione was estranged from their magical world, but she never knew that it was this bad -- this horrible.  She felt her heart turn just from looking at the state her former student was in.  She never quite understood what it was about Hermione that made her care for her so much, but she had always been fond and proud of the little girl, as she saw her.  Minerva vowed to behead anyone who would dare to lay hand or wand on her Hermione.  She knew favoring any particular student was against her personal decalogue, but Hermione--Hermione had stolen her heart.  She loved her like her own child—always looking after her as a student, and constantly worrying about her all those years she disappeared from their world.  She was actually thankful and relieved when Dumbledore had found Hermione and sent her to bring the girl back to Hogwarts to work for him.  She had suspected at first that there was more behind his reasons to bringing her back than he was letting on, and after Hermione's outburst tonight, she was definite something was going on.

She walked towards the distraught Hermione and pulled her into her arms.  She wished she could take back everything she said.  'Damn that man,' she thought to herself.  'Damn him for bringing her back,' she thought, though she had no idea of the matter.  Hermione was surprised when Minerva hugged her and cried onto her sleeve.  Seeing the tears flow from the older woman's eyes helped tear down the barrier she had put up to keep her from breaking down.  Her sudden embrace had surprised Hermione.  She finally gave in and sobbed her heart out onto the older woman's shoulders.  She had never realized that that was what she needed: a shoulder to cry on; someone to scream at for the pain she was feeling; someone to blame.  She felt like a child crying in her mother's arms, hoping the pain would wash out with her tears.  Her heart ached with pain, but when she was done, she had felt a sense of serenity she had not known since Severus broke her heart.  She was suddenly beginning to imagine life without him.  And for the first time ever, it did not seem so bad.   

**!**!**!**!**

 A/N:  Thank you Shannon [Raindrops on Roses] and Sarah [Severitaserum] for the great work on this chapter.  And thank you to everyone who has continued to follow this fic and went as far as leaving a review ;p  It was very much appreciated.


	7. Confessions

Chapter Seven

Confessions

Albus Dumbledore sat still at his desk as he stared intently at the carefully cut-out newspaper clippings in his hands.  He perused the articles sandwiched between his fingers whilst he muttered habitually to himself.  Deep in his thoughts and contentment, he was startled by the sudden exclamation that emanated from the far end of his office.  For a moment he had forgotten that Severus was with him, though he could not see him.  His office was poorly lit and as he looked up from his desk to his right, he could not see anything but his collection of oddments spread out across the room.  But at the far end corner was a little recess he knew Severus was in.  Before long Severus' mumblings turned into more coherent sentences.  

"Your charms, Albus, are extremely perplexing if not irritating," he said coldly.

"Then I take it, Severus, that they work!" the Headmaster replied genially knowing his response would elicit a cold glance if not a remark from his irritated professor.  Severus popped his head out from the recess and shot Albus a cold glance though he knew the old man could not see him.  

Severus was searching for a particular book, and the bookshelves built into the long narrow niche he was in held hundreds of enchanted books which made it nearly impossible for him to find the specific volume.  They were a 'small' collection of ancient and restricted books and tomes Albus had collected over the past century.  Each one of them was charmed with at least three different charms.  And most of them had invisible titles – this made it all the more complicated for Severus to find what he was looking for.  

"You realize, Albus, that there are at least 300 books here," he said with a slight indication for help.  He was a bit disconcerted that the Headmaster had not assisted him with his search, seeing as how they were his books.

"Of course, Severus," he replied.

"And their titles are invisible!" he exclaimed.  
  


"You mentioned that earlier when you began your search."

"Two hours ago," he drawled slightly.

"Do you need help, Severus?"  There was a slight jauntiness in his voice as he had known all along that his 'proud' professor needed help.  He thought it was good practice for Severus to learn to ask for help.

"Are you telling me, Albus, that you've known all along where the book was?"  His voice was low, cold, and rigid.

"Well, they are, after all my books, Severus."  There was a slight silence before it was filled with Snape's soft incoherent grunts.  Albus stood up from his desk and was about to head towards Severus when he was startled by a beautiful, familiar pop.  He looked up with a smile to see Fawkes gliding gracefully down towards him.  The phoenix perched himself on Albus' fingers before pecking the Headmaster softly on his nose.  

"Look who's here, Severus—it's Fawkes—come back from his rounds," he exclaimed.  

This, of course, only elicited more groans and inaudible execrations from the dark alcove.  Albus ignored the annoyed and impatient professor and drew all his attention to his phoenix.  He petted Fawkes softly on his forehead before he slid open the right drawer and pulled out a small cherry truffle.  Fawkes' beaded eyes seemed to glow at the sight of it as did Albus whilst they exchanged what seemed to be a devious grin.  He halved the truffle in two, popping one half into the phoenix's beak and the other into his.  They chewed quietly and contentedly on their sweet knowing the trouble they'd be in if they were caught.  ****

"Minerva would have me, Fawkes, if she caught us right now," he whispered.  The phoenix blinked his eyes in agreement.  Albus petted him some more before inquiring on his rounds.  

"So tell me, my old friend," he whispered softly, "how are we doing tonight: is everything fine in the castle?"  Fawkes fluttered his tail softly in assent.  "No trouble tonight?  Are the children all in bed?"  Fawkes fluttered his tail again with slight graceful movements of his head.  

Dumbledore continued his query for a few minutes before dismissing the phoenix.  He kissed it on its forehead in gratitude before jerking his fingers gently in the air.  "Go on; you deserve a good rest."  Fawkes flew up to his roost and rested for the night.  

Albus noticed that while he queried Fawkes, Severus was awfully quiet.  He assumed that he had finally found the book after hours of searching.  He was glad and was about to resume his reading when he was startled yet again, but by a loud, single, forceful knock.  

He knew only too well whom that knock belonged to.  And he was not too pleased as he usually would have been with his guest, for he knew that such a knock meant she was not happy about something.  

As he expected, Minerva swung his door instantly and swept in, shutting the door loudly behind her.  He looked at the cold expression on her face and immediately panicked that something was the matter.

"Darling—"

"Don't!" she interrupted rudely.  She was fuming and her face was flushed with anger.  "Don't you 'darling' me, Albus!"  Harsh lines bracketed her tightly pursed lips as she glared coldly at the man she trusted more than anyone else in her life.  

Albus suspected she had been crying and worried that something horrible had happened.  There were very few things in this world that frightened him, and one of them was Minerva.  But the fear he felt was a different kind of terror.  It is a fear that one could only understand when they have truly loved someone or understood the love that he felt for this woman.  

Albus stood up immediately from his desk, forgetting for the moment that Severus was also in the room.  

Severus had heard the loud knock as well as Minerva's sudden entrance and he stood precariously in his dark recess hoping to hear whatever it was that had angered his rival Head of House so much.

"Minerva, what is the matter?"

"What have you done?"  

Both Albus and Severus were surprised with the sudden change of tone in her voice.  It was soft, faltering, and incredulous.  The expression on her face had changed also as quickly as her tone.  She seemed hurt rather than angry.  Her brows furrowed in incredulity whilst she waited for an answer as if she expected him to understand what she was on about.  

"What have you done, Albus?" she repeated again.  Apprehensive to her inquiry and where it was exactly she was coming from,Albus did not say a word.  A profound silence pervaded the room as the two figures stared intently at each other – both expecting an explanation from the other.

"Minerva, I don't understand what is wrong," he said uneasily, "If you could explain—"

"Why, Albus?  Why did you bring her here?  What on earth possessed you to bring her back?"  Albus remembered he had last seen her with Hermione, and realized where their conversation was headed.  

He released a breath of relief when he realized that the matter was not life-threatening.  

His fear quickly dissipated whilst it was replaced with extreme concern.  This was one secret he did not disclose to Minerva for many reasons.  He knew that she would find out one day, and regardless, he still had not the heart to tell her.  For one, it would have put Severus in mortal danger.  And two, it would have only brought back memories of their buried yet never forgotten past.  Still, if telling her would ease her curiosity, he still would not—for it was not his place to do so.  

But to Minerva, his withholding such information from her was a clandestine expression of distrust.

Albus walked to the front of his desk and halted before going any further.  He heaved a resigned sigh yet was still insistent on holding his promise; he dreaded the disappointment she would feel towards him when she realized that he would not reveal much to her. 

"I take it this is about Hermione, then?" he said to buy some time.  But she saw his clumsy attempt to sidestep the subject, and scowled menacingly at him.

"Why, Albus?  Tell me why you brought her back!"  She ignored his question with a warning scowl to refrain from acting the innocent elderly he so often played when he was queried on these sorts of matters.  

"Did she talk to you, Minerva?"

"Would I be here inquiring you, Albus, if she did?"

"You know as well as everyone else that she has been estranged from our world."

"No, Albus!  I didn't know.  Nobody knew.  We all assumed she was spending time with her family—making up for lost time, or readjusting to her Muggle world.  But when I inquired Harry and Mr. Weasley on her whereabouts and how she was faring they had absolutely no idea where she was.  I knew right away that something was wrong.  And I waited, Albus.  I waited for you to come to me, because I knew that you either had something to do with it or at least knew of the matter.  But you never came.  Why?  Do you not trust me anymore, Albus?  Is that what it is?"  Her voice was too strained for her to say anything else for the moment.

"Minerva, I would trust you with my life and the lives of these children.  But Hermione's whereabouts were also unknown to me.  It was a while before I found her—you know that."

"And what of her reasons, Albus?  What were her reasons for leaving?"  At this, Albus seemed very troubled.  He knew she was not going to give in until he told her everything about Hermione.  

"Minerva—"

"Albus, I am not leaving until you tell me what happened to that poor girl," she said sternly.  "Do you realize what she has been through?" 

"I have no doubt that she has been through much."

"No, no!  I don't think you have the slightest idea, because you are not aware that she is completely miserable, Albus.  The poor girl is overwhelmed with distress.  You have seen what she has become.  And how am I to comfort her when I don't know what is wrong?  Do you know how much it hurts to see her crying and not know why?"  

Albus stood dumbstruck as if he were incapable of speaking.  Questions flowed endlessly (it seemed) from Minerva's lips and not one could he answer or respond to.  

"Something happened, Albus—and don't you dare stand there and tell me otherwise.  Now, tell me right now why you brought her back!"

"I brought her back, Minerva, because we were all worried about her."

"Yet, you knew something was wrong.  Do you deny that?"

"No," he replied resignedly, "I don't.  But the most important thing is that she is back with the people who care about her—back home.  She will be fine, Minerva.  She just needs time to heal."

"Albus, the girl is wondering why you brought her back to this _Hellhole.  __Hellhole, Albus!  This is not her home," she growled.  "She loathes the place."_

"Minerva, there is nothing that I can do for her."  
  


"Then something indeed has happened to her?" she asked hesitantly, slightly afraid of what his answer would reveal to her.  There was a moment's silence before he answered and every second that passed increased the already rapid beating of her heart.  She clung tightly to the flap of her robes as Albus' benignant face turned grave.

"Yes," he replied softly, knowing that Severus was listening to their conversation, unaware by Minerva.  

Since Severus had realized that Minerva was talking about Hermione, he was completely dumbstruck.  He stood frozen in a rigid stance, his breath held in the entire time.  He felt every muscle in his body tense and knot up as if it had never relaxed before in its existence.  His eyes had started to sting when he realized that he had not blinked once since Minerva inquired about Hermione—his Hermione, he thought suddenly.  He felt a pang in the regions of his heart.  He experienced such pain every night he awoke from a dream about _her_ –only to realize that she was not with him.  

Severus drew his attention back to the deadly silence that seemed to have pervaded the room again and wondered what had happened in that infinitesimal moment while his thoughts drifted off to Hermione.

Despite her suspicions, Albus', revelation that something indeed had happened to Hermione took Minerva by surprise.  She wanted to believe that she was overreacting—making a big deal of nothing.  But her fears were confirmed and it terrified her even more now that she realized it was something terrible.  Otherwise Albus would not have kept this from her.  

"Albus," her voice was hoarse and barely audible, and she was unaware that she still clung onto her robes as she spoke.  "Albus, was she hurt?"

"No, no, Minerva.  She was not physically hurt in any way.  But I'm afraid that I can not tell you anything more.  I am sure that when Hermione is ready she will come to you and confide in you."

"Why won't you tell me what happened to her?" she said disbelievingly, appalled by the fact that he was still not telling her everything.  He had not said much to assuage her curiosity and she was getting rather annoyed with his constant evasion of the truth.  

"I have already told you, Minerva, that it's not my place to tell you."

"Then whose place is it, so I may find them and get some answers!" 

"Darling, please."

"Albus, I will not rest tonight until my mind is settled."

"There is nothing we can do for her, Minerva."

"For gods' sake, Albus, will you not yield?"

"I doubt that that's possible, Minerva," Severus decided to interrupt.  "He seems to have adopted your impervious qualities over the years.  It's rather annoying, don't you think?" 

His mellifluous voice flowed silkily from the dark end of the office and startled both her and Albus.  Minerva instinctively grabbed for her wand before she realized a moment later that the voice was none other than Severus'.  She stared confoundedly at his steely figure as it stepped out from under the dark gloom that blanketed the other end of the office.  

There was a slight pause for her reaction before she was able to find the right words to say.  "How on earth did you get in here, Severus?"

"The exact same way you or anyone else has come through here, Minerva," he responded cynically.  

She saw that he held a book in his hands and knew that he must have been in Albus' charmed recess searching for it before she came in.  She then realized that Severus must have heard everything that she had said about Hermione and immediately shot him a warning look before he was able to say anything.  

"What did you hear, Severus?" she asked bluntly.

"As much as I am NOT interested in Professor Granger's life, Minerva (pleased though I am to hear of her misery) I will not broadcast to the school or staff or even to myself of her …er…crisis.  I'm sure the very mention or thought of her name is torment enough for my mind."

"If you say anything to her, Severus, anything at all—"

"I can only imagine the consequences, Professor, so spare me the details," he drawled.  And with that Minerva decided to close the current discussion for the moment.  She quickly shifted her eyes towards Albus and shot him a menacing glance for his luck and Severus' impeccable timing.     

"And you!  I hope for whatever reason you brought the girl back, that it was worth it--for your sake, at least."  ****

She turned her heel and quickly swept out of his office with her robes flapping behind her as if a gust of wind had blown in from outside.  The moment the door closed behind her, an extremely grave look fell upon the faces of the two men she left behind.  They knew they could not avoid her for long.

*^*~*^~*^*

"Sit down, Severus!"  After a long moment of silence and profound stillness, Albus broke the silence and asked Snape to take a seat.  He had questions of his own and had been patient with Severus, trusting that he would confide in him as Minerva hoped Hermione would confide in her.  But it seemed that they would wait until the castle rotted and tumbled for neither of the professors seemed to show any signs of yielding.  

They were either too proud or too hurt to face the truth, if any of them knew what the truth really was.  

Hermione had her own questions, as well as Minerva who thought Albus had all the answers.  But he was just as puzzled as they were—on some points.  

He knew very well what happened between Hermione and Severus six years ago that tore them apart, if not changed them completely.  He was also aware that Severus had gone through extreme measures to lie to Hermione about his love for her.  

She was indeed hurt, but Albus knew that Severus also suffered that break, if not more.  

Although Severus was a very complicated man and he was not one to come out and spill all, Albus felt that it was time he forgot his pride and opened up to him.  Albus knew he was still hurting despite the usual sardonic façade he graced the school with each day.

Severus remained silent, hundreds of thoughts swarming in his mind though he seemed to be thinking of nothing.  His mind was like a slot machine: spinning and spinning until the right thoughts clicked into place before he was able to attain any coherent thoughts-- Hermione, for instance.  It was no wonder to him that she remained the main object of his constant rumination each day and night.  

Everything he did reminded him of her: the cinnamon on his porridge was reminiscent of the scent of her robes on Tuesdays; the feel of his quill between his fingers reminded him of the only time he ran his fingers through her hair; and the air and walls were painted with an imaginative picture of her.  

Everywhere he turned he saw her face, and that made him all the more miserable.  He could not get her out of his mind nor did he ever try to.  His thoughts and memories were all he had.  And that kept him sane for the moment.

"Whenever you're ready Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, "know that I am always here for you."  

Severus shot his head up to see the Headmaster surveying him.  He nearly cringed at the very sight of the Headmaster: the old man's eyes seemed decisively demanding behind its trademark twinkling.  

Despite the words of solace and comfort, Severus knew what they meant exactly: 'I'm ready to hear your side of the story.  I have waited long enough.'

'Well,' Severus thought to himself.  'Haven't you all?'  But it was no use avoiding the Headmaster now.  It was time to let go as he could not bear the burden alone, anymore.  

It had been a very long time since he talked about this to anyone, a very long time.

"What am I going to do, Albus?"  His question was muffled when he buried his face in between his hands.  His eyes seemed to have lost its austerity whilst it appeared frail and aged.  His voice was but a whisper permeated with a tone of plea.  He seemed desperate.  But he did not care at the moment, for he realized that this was what he needed: advice, solace, and most of all serenity.  And he trusted to turn to no one else for these things at the moment than Albus, the only one who seemed to know him best.  

Severus sat up straight and looked sternly at the Headmaster.  He awaited his reply, though it was a moment before he received one.

"Severus, tell me what you want!"

"So, I am to confess before you offer your advice."

"We both have our needs."

"Albus, you know what I want."

"I'm afraid that I don't.  It has been a very long time since you've come to me.  To tell you the truth, I thought I knew what you wanted, Severus, but now it seems that I am in the dark as is everyone else."

"It's not exactly something I would enjoy broadcasting to the world."  

"I am not the world, Severus; so, talk to me!  I'm all ears."  

Severus stared at the old man before him: his benignant face was now stern and pensive.  He had not the slightest idea of where to begin.  He stirred in his seat and felt discomfort thrum through his body.  It was an unusual position to find himself in.  He almost felt like closing the conversation immediately and heading for his room.  But he was startled from his thoughts when he heard the soft flapping of wings.  

Fawkes had come down from his roost and was now resting in his lap.  It was strangely comforting.  He felt free,** as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.  He found himself petting the phoenix while he got lost in his thoughts. **

He looked up to the Headmaster and began his account of what happened the time he fell in love with the brightest, most obstinate student he had ever known. ****

"I've already told you how I came to fall in love with _her."  He put slight emphasis on the 'her' so Albus understood whom he was talking of.  "We had been working nearly every night on preparing the antidote for Potter.  I could say that if it weren't for your recommending Miss Granger to assist me in the task this probably could have been prevented.  But I suppose that that would be far from the truth.  _

"She only stirred in me what was already there.  I didn't want to give in to such an absurd idea, but she was right all along.  And I panicked, Albus.  It was happening to me again.  And I couldn't allow it to happen."

"But it did!"  

"Well, she was very consistent," he smiled slightly.  "And I had already begun to fall in love with her—that blasted know-it-all I've been tormenting since I first saw her.  Yet my very first impression of her proved true."

"And what was that?"

"—That she would cause me a lot of trouble one day," he whispered.  "And by god, has she ever."

"Has she talked to you since?"  Severus was puzzled with the question.  But the Headmaster had caught on to it and said: "I meant about your reasons, Severus.  Has she ever asked you after that morning why you hurt her?"

Severus remained silent as the memory of his conversation with her at the station came back to him: '_Did_ _you ever love me—even in the smallest bit?'  The question resounded in his ears and was forever infused in his memory.  His response was cold and insensitive, yet necessary.  Now, how he regretted it. _

"Severus?"

"Yes.  Once."

"And what did she say?"

"She asked me if I had ever loved her."

"And your response?"  There was a long pause before he answered.

"I told her she wasn't worth loving."  Severus heard Albus respond with a sigh. ****

"Did she believe you?"

"Without a doubt," he said. 

"Did you feel that that was necessary?" 

"I couldn't love her—even if I wanted to.  But there was something that I could've done.  Why did I see the need to hurt her so badly?"

"Because you wanted her to believe that you did not love her.  She needed to leave Hogwarts believing that it was truly a mistake—a misunderstanding."

"She was really hurt," he said with a vague expression as if he were talking to himself.  He stared at the elf-shaped paper weight on the desk, yet Albus knew he did not notice it.  "I was sure she would forgive me one day.  But I was wrong.  She has not gotten over it, and yet, I feel as if that was a good thing."

"Why would you think that?"  An odd expression came upon Severus' face.  

Albus saw a light in his eyes—as if he had found hope once again.  It was an odd—almost heartbreaking sight.  

"Because then, I knew I would still have a chance to get her back," he whispered to himself.

"And is that what you want?"

"I've wanted nothing more."

"Severus, you do realize that you will be risking much by this decision.  You might only hurt yourself more, and her as well."

"Then I should be alone for the rest of my life, Albus?  Is that what you think is best for me?  You may have ruined the chance of making Minerva your wife, but she still loves you and is still by your side."

"Severus--  
  


"She can't even stand the sight of me," he whispered through pursed lips.  "I see the loathing in her eyes, and the way she stiffens when I pass her—like I'm some parasite she longs to vanquish."

"She has every right to feel that way, Severus.  Was that not what you intended for her to feel?"

Severus shot the Headmaster a severe look.  "Well, thank you for reminding me, Albus," he drawled cynically.  "Your memory is impeccable!"

"I am only trying to understand you and your situation, Severus.  You set out to hurt her after you received that letter.  And after realizing that your lies had indeed torn her from you, you don't understand why she feels the way she does.  Did you not think that she would loathe you after saying such hurtful things?"

"Of course, I did.  I just didn't expect her to feel that way after six years.  Why can't she just forget about everything I said?"

"Because she loved you, and after what Minerva had said tonight, I believe, that in a way, she still does."

"Then how must I get her back?" he said eagerly.

"Severus, you do understand what you will be risking by pursuing her?  The past you have struggled all these years to conceal will be known to her.  Because she will not trust you or consider taking you back without a thorough explanation for making her believe that you never loved her.

"Then, I'll tell her."

"Everything?"

"Yes," he said tentatively. 

"And the letter?"

"Everything!"

"Does she know anything of it?  You told me she was there the night you received it, was she aware of its arrival?"

Severus shook his head whilst he thought long and hard about it.  He remembered that she had seen the owl when she awoke but never inquired about it.  'She was too busy getting hurt by you,' he thought to himself. 

"No!  She knows nothing of it.  I've wanted to tell her many times, but I couldn't."

"Are you sure that you are ready, Severus?"

"I never said I was; but this is something that I must do."

"Then, you realize that when you reveal to her the truth of that letter and your past, that she will not immediately forgive you and take you back.  She might, in fact, scorn you even more than before.  And you will only have succeeded in hurting her again."

"I don't expect it to be simple, Albus.  I've envisioned the worst case scenario many times before."

Severus took a pause as he thought things over.  He reminded himself everyday that what he did was for her own good.  But he knew deep inside that it was a lie—it was for his own selfish reasons.

He looked at the Headmaster who seemed to be examining him again with those scrutinizing eyes.  He was still surprised at the Headmaster's support after all theses years.  He wondered sometimes why Albus was really helping him.  

Severus remembered the Headmaster's similar dilemma with the Deputy Mistress.  He wondered if Albus ever thought of what could have happened between them had he decided to keep his relationship a secret.  He speculated that the Headmaster was living vicariously through his relationship with Hermione.

Albus' eyes lingered on Severus for a moment.  He saw himself in Severus, as the man he was those years ago when he was forbidden to be with Minerva.  He wanted nothing more than to help Severus get back the woman he loved.

"So what do you think, Albus?  Was it the right thing for me to do?" Severus interrupted the deadly silence.  "Could there have been a way for me to keep her and not hurt her in the future?"  The silk was permeated back into his voice, and his eyes returned to their sardonic and narrowed glare.

"Severus, you know that it was impossible for you to have remained in your relationship with Hermione."

"She was supposed to be dead!" he snapped,jumping suddenly to another matter.  

Startled, Albus realized whom Severus was talking of now, and remained quiet to finally understand his feelings with the tragedy fate had dealt him.  

"How was I to know that she feigned her own death? He snapped as he certain passages of the letter he received a long time ago turned over in his mind.

"She has explained it to you, has she not?"

"Yes, and damn her for that," he growled.  His anger soon effaced every other feeling, and slowly his rage boiled within him till he felt he couldn't stand it any longer.  "Why didn't she tell me before she did it?  I had the right to know!"

"She was led to believe otherwise."

"But I suffered in the process, and so did Hermione: she was innocent, and she paid for my weakness."  

Severus had now buried his face in his hands as if it would block out his thoughts and feelings.  He shook with anger and hurt.  He wanted to go to Hermione immediately and confess about everything he did.  "Gods' remind me, why I chose to go back to her?"

"Because you were bound to her, Severus: by love and by law as is everyone who is married."

"Yes.  And what an ill-fated wife she proved to be."

"Her life was in danger; you knew that before you married her.  She thought she was protecting you, and saving your life."  
  


"Well, she only managed to destroy it, for gods' sake.   I was a mess when I discovered she was dead.  I never thought I'd recover. 

"But you did."

"Yes, and in a blink of an eye, I was back to where I started: bitter, lonely, and deprived of everything that meant something to me."  'Few though they were,' he thought to himself.

"Severus, you did nothing wrong.  You were led to believe that your wife was dead.  It was years before you recovered from the news of her death.  You had every right to fall in love again.

"One night.  One night, I spent with Hermione—all to have it ruined when I received that letter-- informing me that my wife was still alive.  I had no choice, Albus.  I had to make Hermione believe that it was all a mistake."

"Did it never cross your mind that she might have understood about your wife if you had told her—that she might have even supported you?  She is a very intelligent woman, Severus.  She knows the laws of marriage and would have believed that you knew nothing of your wife's plans to feign her death.  She would have understood your reasons for ending the relationship.  Did you not think that that was the simpler thing to do?  You could have spared her such pain.  Why did you not tell her the truth then?"

"Well, you said it so yourself, didn't you, Albus?" he snapped unexpectedly.  He had indeed thought about this before, yet dismissed the idea when he realized that he did not want her to be understanding of his past or his wife.  The last thing he wanted was for her to understand his quandary, and therefore convincing herself to move on.  

He couldn't bear the idea of her being with anyone, as he knew that she could not bear the thought of him being back with his wife.  But it was much more complicated than he led himself to imagine.  There was too much involved in their tangled webs and for one, he could not readily disclose his past and the information that his wife was still alive to her or to anyone.  It would have put her life in jeopardy all over again.  

"I'm sorry, Albus," he apologized for his sudden outburst.  "I just couldn't risk it."

Albus knew that that was only partially the reason, but refrained from dragging the matter on any further.  

"Well, you mustn't dwell on this, Severus.  You must work to get her back.  You are now free to do that.  I'm sure the death of your wife was a great loss but—

"No!  I'm glad I'm free of her," he remonstrated vehemently, knowing he would regret such words later.  

There was once a time when he would have given his own life for that woman when she was still alive.  In a way, it seemed that she had gone ahead and taken it from him.  And he laughed at the paradox of it all, the sweet irony that fate had dealt him: to give one thing up for another, and yet what was he left with in the end?  Nothing—not a damn blasted thing!  And he laughed out loud, startling the Headmaster.  

He stood up from his seat, concluding their colloquy as he headed for the door.  

He had had enough confessing for the night.  He needed to rest before morning came.  He was at least grateful that his conversation with the Headmaster did not prove to be completely worthless.  He had much to reflect on.

Another guttural laugh sounded in his throat as he walked towards the door.  

The Headmaster was taken aback with his odd behavior, and wondered at his sudden need to leave.  Albus did not stop him, though.  Severus craned his neck slightly to give one last glance to the Headmaster.  He shot Albus an odd smile that left him feeling slightly uncomfortable.  

Albus then could not help but feel that his advice would prove worthless. He worried for his friend, but time could now only tell what will become of his professor.  

************

Author notes:  Thanks, Sarah, for betaing this chapter of Zephyr.  I really appreciate your help.

And I want to thank everyone who has been following Zephyr, and have been patient with my slow updates.  Thanks for the great reviews: they were extremely encouraging and helpful.  I enjoy every review you have all left.  Keep it up!! : ] 


	8. Nicolas Thierry

Chapter Eight

Nicolas Thierry

The next day commenced as the previous: children scurrying to their classes after breakfast, and lessons fairing on as usual.  

Hermione swept into her dungeons of Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years to find them (fortunately) intact and unharmed by each other.  

The students immediately took their assigned seats without being asked.  Hermione took out her wand-- tapped it once on her notes and twice on the blackboard-- instantly, a list of 40 ingredients appeared on the board.  It elicited a few groans and many covert sneers from the class.

"Have your quills and parchments ready!"  On the board are 40 ingredients we will be using quite often this term.  I want you to list at least two potions that require each ingredient.  You will not be permitted to use a single potion more than three times.  I will give extra points to any who manages to finish the assignment in 15 minutes.  You will begin now."

Hermione knew that the best of her students would get 15 to 20 ingredients at the most in the given time.  The assignment was an efficient way for her to learn what each of her students knew and how well their minds worked when forced to do an assignment at a short time.  

Hermione stood at the front-center of the class with her arms folded behind her as she waited for the students to finish their assignments.  After a few minutes passed she caught a figure moving under her doorway from the corner of her eye.  

The figure remained still outside as if waiting for her to notice its presence before entering.  

Hermione headed out the classroom and closed the door gently behind her.  

Standing before her was a young man she had never seen before.  He wore the Gryffindor House robes: they were vaguely slovenly, though he stood tall and stately before her.  He had Celtic-like features and storm-grey eyes (She could not help but notice that they seemed a bit too close together.)  His sufficiently long nose was proportionate to his long face, and his flaxen hair was windswept, or perhaps arranged to seem that way.  He was finely developed, she thought, and perhaps a little too tall.  He was not strikingly handsome but there was definitely something appealing to his features.  

Hermione clandestinely examined the newcomer as she inquired on his business for interrupting her class.

"May I help you?" she said in a slightly less harsh tone than she would have normally used.

"Yes," he replied.  His voice was languid and slightly husky.  He spoke in a light French accent that steered all attention from his narrow slanted eyes to the graceful movements of his lips.  She then, perceived that he was the new student from Beauxbatons and was a bit disappointed that he was late for her class-and on his very first day.  

"I am looking for the Potions dungeon, is this it?"

"Mr. Thierry?"

"Yes!"

"You're late!"  She frowned.

"I apologize for my tardiness, professor.  I had some trouble with the directions a very kind poltergeist gave to me on the way down here," he said, pointing up to the stairs behind him.  

Hermione sighed at the instant mention of Peeves' name and reminded herself to report him to the Bloody Baron when she had the chance to after class.  She should have known that the poltergeist would be so kind as to bless the poor student on his first day with one of his tricks.

"Enough said, Mr. Thierry," she said softly.  "There's no need to explain.  I'll have you know that Peeves, our poltergeist, is the last person you should ever ask for anything.  He's devious, tricky, and extremely rude.  And I'll advise you to steer clear of him if you could.  He has very little manners, and has never had any intentions of helping anyone but himself.  And mind you, he was not named Peeves for his kindness."

A short laugh sounded from the new student's throat as she said this.  "I'll remember that next time, Professor."  

"The class is being quizzed at the moment, Mr. Thierry.  I have on the board a list of ingredients.  The assignment is to write at least two potions that requires each ingredient.  There are 10 minutes left to the assignment and if you'd like, you can do as much as you can.  You will be allowed to finish the quiz after class.  So, you can see me after the bell has rung.

Hermione walked into the dungeons with the new student behind her.  He stood at the front of the class as he searched for a vacant seat.  All eyes were simultaneously drawn to him.  

Mr. Thierry's presence elicited a series of murmurs and glances.  He took a seat beside Michael Radford, a Gryffindor, and grinned slightly when he realized that everyone was still eyeing him.  

He took out his quill and parchment and did as much of the assignment as he could.  Hermione noticed his efforts and was glad that her new student was at least eager to learn.  She had a good feeling about him, and she smiled inwardly when this thought had crossed her mind.

******

Since Mr. Thierry walked into her dungeons, Hermione's class had inadvertently been disrupted by him.  

The girls, from both Houses, could not concentrate on their assignments or keep their eyes away from the new student.  And the boys, as hard as they tried, could not help but examine Mr. Thierry and exchange murmured opinions amongst themselves.   

The only person who seemed unaffected by Mr. Thierry's presence was Mr. Thierry himself.  He ignored (or seemed to) the whispers and glances all around him as he attempted to do as much of the assignment on the board as he could in the remaining time.    
  


When the class was over, Hermione scowled as she looked over some of the parchments from the quiz and noticed that only very few got as far as the 10th ingredient.  She gave her class homework (3 foot long essay on the different properties of the Belladonna) before dismissing them.  She stowed the quizzes into one of her drawers and started when she looked up to see her new student watching her.  

The flaps of his robes hung loosely at his sides while his hands stayed tucked in his pants.  He stood before her like a tall steely tree whilst she noticed a queer look upon his face-it vanished before she had time to analyze it.  

The foreign student smiled at her as she scrutinized him.  

She quickly looked away when he caught her staring.   

"Take a seat!  I'll quiz you in a minute.  If you want to take it another time, that can be arranged, but it'll have to be some time today."  

Hermione was shuffling and organizing some parchments on her desk as she spoke.  She looked up after a moment of silence, when Mr. Thierry did not respond right away.  

The new student held a parchment aloft for her.  She took it and saw that it was his assignment.  He had finished it in the short time given to him.  

"Very impressive."  She smiled.

"I'm glad you're impressed."

"There's no need for you or anyone else to try and impress me, Mr. Thierry.  Keep up the good work and behave in my class-everything will fine.  

"What is your name?" he asked abruptly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your name, Professor; I realized that I don't know your name."  He smiled.  His French accent was very light-- one would hardly notice that he was French.  

Hermione hastily cleared her thoughts and smiled at her new student.  

"I'm sorry.  You may call me Professor Granger.  Hermione noticed that the young man's features seemed to stiffen all of a sudden.  She dismissed the thought when his expression quickly changed and he smiled back at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor.  I am most skilled at potions-making than anything else."

"Really?  Was your father a Potions Master?"

"My grandfather was a Potions Master," he said quickly.  "He taught me most everything he knew before he passed away."

"I'm very sorry," she said, feeling a bit uncomfortable with where their conversation was leading.  "Uh, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Thierry-I have a lot of work to do here.  

The young man nodded in acquiescence.  And with a slight bow he left her dungeons.  

She pondered for a moment on the things he had said earlier before she remembered that she had to pay the Bloody Baron a visit concerning Peeves.  

Her fifteen minute break was nearly over.

****************

Striding quickly past the halls of the west wing, Hermione found herself near the entrance to the Bloody Baron's station.  

She always dreaded going down there: its cold and unnatural atmosphere never ceased to make her hair stand on end.  

She had debated in her dungeons on whether she should carry out her plans on reporting Peeves-the Bloody Baron's gloomy halls was hardly a place one would enjoy traversing unless they were dead.  She had had enough of Peeves and decided to report him, regardless of the consequences she should find herself in if he found out that she had told on him.

She had not been down the gloomy passages for years.  They seemed a lot more desolate and eerie than the last time she had visited.  There was no one in sight.  The halls were empty and the deafening silence vibrated in her blood-pounding ears.  She was very nervous; it was very unusual that she had not come across any of the ghosts by now.  She wanted to call out to someone, but her tongue was caught between her teeth and the discomfort that she felt from the unusually empty halls, kept her from saying anything at all.  

When she reached the Bloody Baron's dungeons she noticed that a faint light flickered from beneath the door.  She hesitated for a moment before entering.  The deadly silence was suddenly pervaded with a harsh, raspy breathing.  It was uncoordinated and piercing in the quiet atmosphere surrounding her.  She pressed her ear slightly to the metal doors.  

Hermione felt her heart clashing against her ribs as she tried hard to silence her breathing.  It only suffocated her and caused her heart to beat even more arrhythmic.  

There was a sudden movement inside, and Hermione perceived that there was more than one person or specter in the room.   

Everything happened rather quickly.  Hermione heard a bit of scuffling and muffled indistinct groans.  She could not make much of the unusual activity going on beyond the metal doors, yet the fact remained that she still heard no voices.  This gave her a queer feeling and she stood stiff and aghast outside as she listened to the movements from within the room.  

She felt her hand moving for the handles, but saw that they remained still and rigid beside her.  She felt a strange power within her thrust herself against the large doors.  She threw them open like an intrusive prowler would.

The noises ceased and Hermione found her heart stop suddenly within her.  

The sight before her was most disturbing and it was a moment before she gained any coherent thoughts.  

Inside the Bloody Baron's dungeons, stood the Baron with Filch; Peeves was there also and was in a most horrific state.  He was bobbing convulsively in thin air while his hands were fettered by a thick wisp of swirling mist that kept him from escaping the excruciating pain that was being inflicted upon him.  

The Bloody Baron's silver-stained hands were pierced inside the poltergeist.  It imposed such agonizing pain.  

The poltergeist's face no longer seemed impish or mischievous, but vacant and distorted.   

Hermione had never felt such pity and sympathy for Peeves as she did at that moment.  Horrified at first, she could not find the words or courage to speak or move.  But the Gryffindor within her alighted with fury, causing her to snap out of her stupor.  

Hermione quickly grabbed for her wand and pointed it towards the Bloody Baron and the sinister-looking caretaker who seemed angry as if he had been deprived of his entertainment. 

"What in the name of Godric is going on here?" her voice resonated in the abrupt.  "Release him this very instant!"

"This is not your concern, professor," the caretaker growled.  "That bloody wraith is a nuisance to all, and is finally getting what's been comin'.  So go back up and let us take care of this."

"Filch!" she spat crossly.  "You wicked, cold-hearted man; how could you allow this to happen?  I demand you, Bloody Baron, to stop this at once!  _Relashio__!"_

Hermione's spell caused the Bloody Baron to release Peeves.  She quickly cast an invisible ward over him before casting the _Morbilicorpus_.  And before Filch could stop her, Hermione was already out and running up the stairs with Peeves floating unconsciously behind her.  She quickly headed for the Headmaster's office when she reached the upper floors.  She darted as if the Bloody Baron was pursuing her.  She nearly fell over when she ran into her Head of House.

"What on earth--?  Hermione looked up to see McGonagall's puzzled gaze directed towards her and the cataleptic poltergeist.  "Dear girl, what in gods name have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Minerva," she gasped as she tried to steady her breathing.  "I found him down at the Bloody Baron's floor being tortured-the poor thing.  I need to go to Dumbledore and inform him of this--

"Hermione, girl, slow down, I can barely catch what you are saying.  Now slowly, tell me what is going on?"

"I went down to see the Bloody Baron regarding Peeves and I found him and Filch tormenting him.  The Bloody Baron had his hands in him-and-Peeves-Oh, Minerva you should've seen what they did to him-"

"That is enough, Hermione," she said gently.  "I'll take care of this.  Give him to me, I'll take him up to the infirmary, and then I'll have a talk with Albus.  You need to get to your class."  She talked as if the incident was not news to her.  She seemed only slightly troubled, yet she was not as disturbed as Hermione was.  

"B-but-"

"Go!  You have students waiting for you; the bell rang 5 minutes ago."  Minerva did not want to say it, but she sent her rather because she had seen the girl through enough already.  She wished to send her to her office to rest, but that would only indicate that there was a problem.  

Hermione instantly obeyed as the peremptory tone of her older colleague moved her automatically to close the subject and head for her class.  

For a moment, she had forgotten that she was a professor with a class full of students waiting for her.  

Reluctantly, and still unsettled, Hermione headed for the east wing and down to her dungeons.  

She could not get the frail expression of the usually devious-looking poltergeist out of her head.  She was in a state of shock, and could not believe that she had witnessed such treacherous forms of punishment at Hogwarts.  She wondered over and over -what exactly the Bloody Baron was doing to Peeves.  It seemed most unusual if not painful for the poltergeist.  She would be sure to bring the matter up at the next staff meeting if it was the last thing she did.

She would deal with Filch later.  

**********

Severus leaned over the fireplace with his hands set firmly over the mantelpiece.  He gazed into the hearth as if the fabrication of his thoughts were visible beyond its fiery inset.  

He had not much sleep last night since he returned to his quarters from the Headmaster's office.  He had been pondering all night on what he should do to get Hermione back.  As much as he wanted he could not walk up to her and confess about everything that had happened to him.  He also didn't have the guts to do it.  After all the harsh and heartless things he had ever said to her, he could not picture himself helpless and vulnerable at her feet -begging for her forgiveness like the powerless weakling he saw himself as.  Nevertheless, his ultimate desire to have her back effaced all other feelings.  He knew his chances of getting her back were slim, and the very thought of the idea was as absurd as the possibility of her taking him back.  But his will was set and he had now decided that he would work to get her back, even if it meant risking the secret of his past life to others.

Severus cringed as the horrible memories of him causing Hermione unnecessary pain came back to him with a vengeance.  He never wanted to, he never wished to-but the fact remained that he did it anyhow, no matter the reasons.  And he was sure she would no sooner forget than he.    

He had no clue as to where he could even begin.  No viable plan presented itself to him.  The whole idea of it frightened him, and the thought that she would certainly not take him back scared him most.  A part of him wanted to believe that her unresolved feelings would be his only chance to win her back.  

He wished he could start all over again; help her find a way to forget their past and forgive him as well.  

_Impossible! _

'No more sarcastic responses or sadistic expressions.'

_Unlikely_! 

He will do everything in his power to earn back her trust, no matter the cost. 

_'It was hopeless_!' he thought resignedly. 

"Severus!"

Severus started from his solitary splendor when Dumbledore's voice emanated from the fireplace.  He looked down to see a large smile protruding from the Headmaster's lips.

"Having fun, Headmaster?"  The sarcasm was automatically permeated into his words.  He couldn't help it.

"Well, you looked so content in your thoughts it was such a pity to bother you."

"Yet, you did anyway."

"Well, I was wondering if you would join me here in my office.  I know you would rather spend your free class period in your office, drifting off into space--"  With that Severus gave a slight snort.  "But if you would join me for a cup of tea, I promise not to keep you long."

"Is something the matter, Albus?"

"Would something have to be wrong for me to invite you for a cup of tea?" he smiled.  Severus arched a brow before he sighed resignedly.  

"Very well, I'll be up in several minutes."

"Will you not step through?"

"No!  I want to check the corridors on my way up."

"Ah, you are ever on the prowl for truants, I see.  Well, I should hope to see you soon, then.  Minerva has just left a few minutes ago."

"Was something wrong?"

"No, no, Severus.  You worry too much.  Minerva was up to propose a farewell party for Irma this Friday.

"Don't you think it's too soon for a party?  The students have just arrived."

"It's the only available time.  We're quite busy for the next several weeks and Irma is already suspecting something."

"Very well."

"Then, I'll see you in a few!  Good bye, Severus."

"Headmaster," and with a slight bow he headed for his desk, warded his drawers and door, and headed out the hall.

All Severus could do as he traversed the halls on his way up to the Headmaster's office was think about Hermione--good thoughts, bad thoughts, thoughts in-between, if such existed.  But whatever his feelings, he could not help but feel light-hearted.  It was as if he had already gotten her back, and that made his heart flutter more.  He felt slightly queasy with his peculiar behavior, but that did not stop him from continuing to think about her.

So far, Severus had not come across any students lingering in the hallways during class, therefore he was still deep in thoughts and not consciously aware of where he was going when he bumped suddenly into someone.  

She seemed to have come out of nowhere.  

Severus instantly whipped the clumsy individual around for a tongue-lashing when he realized who it was.

"Are you bloody blind, you-"

"I doubt you would want to finish that, Professor."  Her voice was languid and her eyes alight with mischief.  When Severus realized that he had bumped into the Minister's daughter he quickly bit back his tongue, though his malicious expression still lingered on his face.

"What are you doing out of class, Miss Bailey?"  The words were forced through his gritted teeth, though she could hear very well since she was still clinging tightly onto his robes. 

"I felt woozy, Professor, so I was excused to go to the Infirmary."  Her eyes smiled at him and he started to feel very uncomfortable.  He noticed that she was still did not release the flaps of his robes.  He looked down at her fists clenched tightly around his gown and wondered what on earth the stupid girl was playing at.  

Miss Bailey shifted her eyes to the direction of his gaze as she realized his suspicions.  She smiled before she whispered: "Am I making you uncomfortable, Professor?"  

At these words and the soft tone of her voice, he did feel oddly uncomfortable.  There was a moment he felt as if his mind went suddenly blank while his mind flashed from one thought to another as he tried to figure out the scene playing out before him.  It seemed a difficult task at the moment.

They stared silently at each other: Annessa, hinting of her attempt to chat him up, and he, slightly ignorant of her effort.  

Before long, Severus figured out what it was that she was playing at: 'By gods, the child is flirting with me!' he thought.  

He was so appalled if not flattered by the mere fact, that it was a while before he could think properly.  The girl was undoubtedly beautiful, and even that was an understatement, but now he realized that what she had in beauty she lacked in wits.  To think for a moment that he would actually allow her to flirt with him (as flattering as it was) without getting a tongue-lashing at the least was plain daft.  

But before he could respond to the child's ridiculous behavior and lash out at her stupidity, daughter or not of the Minister, they were both startled by a sharp voice from behind them that cracked like a whip.

"Miss Bailey!"  Severus and Annessa quickly whipped around to see the angry face of the Potions mistress.  She was incredulous and livid, yet her eyes were ablaze with anger.  She was utterly surprised at what she was seeing and was for a moment too astonished to say anything.

"Professor," the student replied as she released her grip from Severus' flaps and quickly stepped back.  "I was just-"

"Return to your class at this moment, Miss Bailey!"  Annessa did not attempt to argue her way out of it.  She recognized the peremptory tone in her professor's voice and knew all too well than to argue with her.  She realized that Hermione was not in a state to be trifled with and quickly made her way for her class, hoping to get as far away from the menacing-looking Potions mistress as possible.  Hermione lashed out at her student, yet she never once looked at her face.  Her eyes were fixed firmly on Severus and it did not take much for him to realize that she abhorred him.

He cursed inwardly and felt the urge to smash something against the wall.  He couldn't believe his luck: damn her and her impeccable timing, he thought sarcastically.  

Too afraid to say anything, he waited only for a word from her before deciding on how he would respond.  But she simply glared at him with the utmost revulsion before turning her heel.

"You're disgusting."  He heard the words' escape her lips as she turned to leave.  He unconsciously (and later regrettably) grabbed her arm.  She was stopped in her tracks and she quickly turned around to shove him away from her.  

She couldn't stand him touching her anywhere.  She had lost all respect for him and wanted, at the moment, to rip out his hair. 

"Loosen your grip, Professor," she snapped.  

"What's your problem?" Snape retorted, ignoring all formalities.

"My problem is that you're a pig-you've got some nerve-flirting with your student!"

"Flirting?  What the hell are you insinuating?"  

"What do you think?  Haven't you done enough damage already-you've got to go and ruin that poor girl's life, as well?" Hermione lowered her voice when she realized that she was yelling at him.

Snape unconsciously grabbed for her wrist again-gripping at it tightly before he realized that he had crossed the line.  

She cowered slightly-fearing the venomous look her words had elicited from him: "You think you know everything, don't you, Professor?"  His coldness belied the calmness in his tone.  

"I know enough to see you for what you really are: a deceiver."  The very words struck him hard and whether she chose to ignore it or not, she was aware that it had affected him.  

"And I suppose you wished you had seen that before you threw yourself at me, a filthy, deceiving professor?" he said bluntly, referring to a certain moment in their past.

"Times have changed!  People change!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes; for one thing, the girls come smarter these days," she said coldly.  They'll see you for what you really are!"

Severus quickly jerked Hermione away from him, causing her to stagger backwards.  He attempted to make his way past her before she should see that he was affected by what she said.  "Think what you will," his voice cracked.  

"I'm not going to let you hurt anyone like you hurt--"

"-Who?" he inquired quickly whilst he whipped around to grip her for the third time.  His dark, brooding eyes pierced her coldly.  

He wanted so desperately to bind her and drag her off to his private quarters.   He would keep her there until he mustered up the courage to tell her everything.  He couldn't stand the thought of her waking up each day thinking these things about him.   He saw that kidnapping was possible realizing the state of madness that woman could drive him to.  

For the moment-he wanted to crack the back of his hand across her taut, yet once- cherubic face.  'You are one of the most brilliant women, I have ever met.  Why haven't you figured it out already?' he thought angrily.  

Snape had spent years keeping the secret of his marriage and past life from her, but sometimes he almost wished she would figure things out herself.  The answers were after all, hidden in the library, her solitary splendor from the tedium of the world around her.  But he supposed that she did not care much about him to go through such trouble.  

Severus cleared his mind before he shifted his thoughts back to Hermione.  She did not wrench herself from his grip, and he was grateful for that.  He couldn't remember the last time he touched her or stood so close to her.  He cursed the robes and whatever article of material under it that kept his yearning hand from feeling her skin.  He could easily smell the scent of her hair.  

_'Tangerine.'___

He supposed she was right about his sexual perversion, though only for her would he allow himself to act so demoralizing-not for some randy little school girl in heat.  Once again, he felt the need to strike a woman-he wondered what boorish animal he was turning himself into. 

Hermione yanked her arm from Severus' grip when she saw the vague expression that took over his face.  He was looking at her yet she felt as if he did not see her at all.  She pushed him away from her whilst she chafed her wrists slightly.  

"You have a problem.  I recommend you get some help for it!" she said calmly before scrutinizing the odd state he seemed to be in.  

He returned her scrutiny without rancor and realized that he could not respond to her comment.  He was neither angry nor hurt-he just wanted to grab for her and press his lips against her face.  Instead he backed away from her and without another word-he turned his heel and made his way for his office.  

If it was impossible for him to get her back before, it was now unimaginable.  

'_Once again, Severus, you've managed to nail yourself to the wall'_, he thought cynically.  He cursed at himself in silent imprecations for being daft enough to allow his anger to get the best of him.  

He knew that she was standing rigidly behind him and in no doubt wallowing in her anger.  

"_Damn it_," he said to himself.  "_And damn that Bailey_," he cursed heatedly.  

He was not aware of it, but Hermione had heard his soft execrations.  Her expressions quickly changed from heated to bewilder.  She wondered what he had meant by that.  She stood still for a while pondering over his words-forgetting again, her class full of students.

She was already half an hour late. 

__________________________


	9. Belladonna

Chapter Nine

Belladonna

_"…'to be carefull to see to it and to close it in, that no body enter into the place where it groweth, that wilbe enticed with the beautie of the fruite to eate thereof.'" _

**Henry Lyte**

****************

Students filed into the dungeons as the morning bell sounded for class.  The room was filled with soft chatters and mirth.  The students were excited, and looked forward to their first weekend back at Hogwarts.

Hermione was in a fairly good mood, owing partly to the fact that Friday had finally arrived, and the rest, to the closing of the first week of the new term. 

Tonight was Irma's going-away party, and there were already rumors of it spreading around.  No doubt, the children were scheming for after-hour hoaxes and trysts.

Filch was on the prowl.

Hermione was looking forward to the interesting lesson she had planned for her seventh years.  On her desk were three different baskets.  One was filled with leaves of a darkish green color and purple bell-shaped flowers.  The other contained thick, whitish roots as long as 8 inches, and stems.  And the last, the most appealing, was a dark Fujian bamboo basket lined with a thin silver cloth.  And in it were small dark, plump cherries, from dark plum to black.  They were most tempting, and their exquisiteness alone, elicited a series of covetous looks and wateringmouths.

As the last of the students filed in, Hermione turned to the blackboard to magically tap onto it the notes and assignment of the day.  

Stephen French and his faction of Slytherin conformists sauntered into class with an air of waywardness about them, daring any to look upon them with disagreement or defiance.

The basket of cherries had no doubt caught the wandering eyes of the unruly clique.  Stephen motioned for the boys to take a seat whilst he stood precariously at the side of the desk, eyeing the professor and wondering if he dared to pop a cherry or two in his mouth for the sake of entertaining his peers. 

The entire class watched anxiously.

Stephen figured he could easily shove the basket down his throat before the professor noticed.  He craned his neck round slightly to glance quickly and slyly at his audience.  

He lifted the basket of cherries, and turned it around in mock examination.  He dug his fingers into the basket, lifting a handful of cherries before letting them fall through his fingers.  Stephen took his sweet time as if he did not care less whether he was caught.  His Slytherin peers were clearly impressed with his mock performance of Gryffindor bravado.  

At last, Stephen took a cherry in his fingers, holding it aloft so the class could witness his savoring it with pleasure. The cherry was close to being devoured when it was snatched suddenly from his grasp. 

"I wouldn't eat that if I were you," came a calm, mellow voice.

Caught unawares, Stephen quickly whipped around with a vengeance, seizing the figure's collars immediately before he realized who it was. 

Stephen French stood nose to nose with Nicolas Thierry.  The new student was the last person he expected to see, but he refrained from releasing his grip, anyhow.  He stared daringly against Nicolas' calm, yet disenchanted eyes. 

Hermione had now turned from her blackboard to see what all the commotion was about.  She saw Stephen French collaring her new student, Nicolas while he held one of her cherries carefully between his fingers.

She saw the tension mounting between the two students and was about to interject when Stephen released Nicolas from his grip.

"What the hell is your problem?" Stephen snapped. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you were going to consume the cherry," Nicolas responded calmly.

"I was!"

"Well, you do understand that--"

"Just get out of my way!" French rejoined as he shoved the newcomer to the side.

"It wasn't my intention to humiliate you," Nicolas continued.

Repulsed with the foreign student's composedness and genteel mannerisms, Stephen poked his fingers into Nicolas' chest before grabbing for his wand.

Hermione then interjected and stood between the two young men.

"Enough!  This sort of behavior is absolutely not accepted in my class.  Now, what is going on here?"  

Neither student responded.  "Mr. French, I don't remember ever giving you or anyone permission to eat the cherries from the basket."

"You didn't forbid it, either," he retorted bitterly with his eyes still set on Nicolas.

"Obstinacy is hardly flattering, Mr. French.  Had you consumed the cherry you would've most likely been poisoned.  You should thank Mr. Thierry, who was kind enough to spare you that embarrassing ordeal."  This, of course only elicited derision from the heated Slytherin.

"They hardly looked poisonous, Professor, and why would you have them in a basket if not to pass them around for consumption?"

"I'm not here to bring you treats or cherries, Mr. French.  They're for your lesson."

"Sure," he muttered as he headed for his seat.  

Nicolas remained standing at the front of her desk.  He did not seem to notice her studying him.  He stood in a leisurely stance with a vague expression on his face.  He was clearly oblivious to his surroundings and those around him.  

Hermione examined him closely, wondering what on earth he was thinking about.  She saw him staring at the baskets on her desk and its contents.  Her student's peculiar behavior began to worry her, and she started when he grabbed for the basket of leaves and flowers.

"No," she said quickly as she tried to prevent her student from touching the contents of the basket.  "They're poisonous, Mr. Thierry, they're--  

"Belladonnas," he said softly.  "I know."

Hermione was slightly taken aback.  "You are familiar with this plant?"

"I am most familiar with this Atropas Belladonna," he replied quietly still keeping his eyes on the slightly poisonous bell flowers in his hands.

"That is very good to hear, Mr. Thierry.  Not too many students are familiar with the ingredient in its botanical form.  It's usually given to them after it is prepared—powdered roots and leaves, fluid extract leaves, alcoholic extracts, and such."

"You'll find that I have somewhat of an obsession with this plant, professor."  Hermione looked at her student intently when he said this.  A student professing his obsession with a pernicious plant was hardly something to overlook.

Hermione could barely hear him due to the buzz of excitement that surged through the room as the students stood around and exchanged weekend plans before class began.  They learned to take advantage of the opportunity when their Potions Mistress was poised in chatty conversation.  They paid no heed to her and took the time to exchange as much as they could with each other while she was distracted.   

Hermione was too concerned with Nicolas' interest in the Deadly Nightshade to ignore his remark.

"An obsession?" she inquired softly.

Nicolas Thierry snapped out of his state of subliminal serenity when the realization of what he had said hit him.  "Yes," he replied quickly.  "I should blame my grandfather.  It was his obsession with the plant that also had me fixated.  

"How so?"

"He named my mother Belladonna.  My grandmother was afraid he would name me Atropas."  A soft smile flitted over Hermione's face.

"What was it about the Belladonna that intrigued him so?"

"I think it was that very reason: it was intriguing.  To find a rare plant that is so exquisite yet pernicious and useful in so many ways was appealing to him.  Most of his work was based solely around this plant.  It was all he talked about.  But then, of course he was a strange man," smiled Nicolas.  

"There's nothing strange about finding an interest in something and dedicating yourself to it."

"His obsession with the plant drove him mad," Nicolas stated sternly.  "It destroyed our lives and broke up my family," he said without quite realizing it.  

His face changed as he spoke and Hermione, for the second time, found herself in a conversation with the new student that made her feel slightly uncomfortable.  

Nicolas realized this and quickly changed the subject.  "I'm looking forward to today's lesson, Professor.  The properties of the Belladonna are always an interesting subject."

"Thank you, Mr. Thierry."  Hermione could now hardly wait to begin her lesson.  She only hoped the rest of the class would be as enthused as Mr. Thierry.  

Nicolas returned to his seat as she motioned for class to begin.  

"Settle down!  I have on my desk three baskets," Hermione stated.  She wasted no time at all with beginning her lesson.  "I will pass them around for everyone to look at.  You are not to touch the contents of these baskets.  Just look and observe, then pass it to the student next to you."

Hermione handed the three baskets to three students in the front row.  They examined the contents before passing it on to the next student.  After a few minutes, the baskets were brought back to the front, and Hermione waited for the murmurs to calm down before she continued.

"These leaves, roots, and cherries are properties of an important ingredient in potions-making.  It has many names as well as uses.  The root is poisonous, and the leaves and cherries less so."  Hermione carefully lifted up a large chunk of the whitish root for the class to see.  She had grasped the attention of the class just as she had hoped she would with her lesson.  She cautiously put the root back into the basket.

"Can anybody tell me what this plant is?  It's not difficult," she added when she received nothing more than a series of huffs and exhausted expressions from the class.  "You've used them before, though not before they were prepared."

"They look like ordinary cherries to me," said Lydia Beaverton, a Gryffindor.

"Well, they're not exactly ordinary, Miss Beaverton.  These cherries as well as the plant bear a very bad character of being poisonous.  It is very exquisite, and it is this very reason that it attracts so many people, especially children.  Can someone tell me the name of this plant?"

Silence had at last pervaded the dungeons.  Hermione gazed circumspectly at her unmoved group of students and felt the high she had experienced a moment ago quickly decline.  Not only was she being ignored but Hermione had the dreadful feeling that most her students had no idea of what she was talking about.  It also seemed to her that they were deliberately disregarding her simply to complicate things for her.

"All right, then!  Mr. Radcliffe, give it a shot!  I can list at least 10 different names that are synonymous to this plant, you're bound to get one of them," she said disconcerted.

Mr. Radcliffe looked up disconcerted as well given the several counts of Slytherins in the class she could have picked on.  Daniel shifted uneasily in his chair suppressing the desire to declare her disloyalty to the students of their house.    

"Mr. Radcliffe?"

"I don't have a clue, Professor.  But I'm sure the _brilliant members of the sly—I mean Slytherin house might." _

"Well, it's no surprise you Gryffindors are so dense," French retaliated.  "Your brash valiance clearly makes up for your lack of brain power."

"That would've been perfect coming from you, French, were you clever yourself."   

"That's enough!" Hermione interposed once again.  "I have had enough of these foolish spats for the day.  Whatever your problems, settle them elsewhere.  Why are you all here if not to waste my time?  I asked a simple question and all it elicited was your immaturity.  

"I am speaking to all of you.  Don't think that I am not aware of what you are all doing—ignoring my queries to punish me, because you believe me to be harsh; how else will you learn anything if you only come here to ignore my lessons?  I am ashamed and irritated with your behaviors.  And were you not all asked to right an extensive essay on the properties of the Belladonna on Tuesday?  Why haven't any of you guessed then, that these are all the properties of that very same plant?  Is it so difficult to remember a single essay you wroteonly a few days ago?"  

The stress and hassle that was riding on Hermione since the beginning of the week was finally taking effect on her students.  She had** promised herself that her personal life would never affect the way she taught or treated her students, but the strain from the week's events was too much for her to suppress.  She understood that her students deserved to be reprimanded for their immature behaviors but she felt she may have gone a tad bit overboard with the harsh remarks.  **

The entire class was clearly taken aback with her sudden outburst.  She was one they had pictured to be strict and solemn.  Her little flare-up was clearly unexpected. 

Hermione released a ragged breath as she calmed herself and collected her thoughts.  

"Now, the Atropas Belladonna is a solanaceous plant of the Nightshade family.  It is sometimes known as the Deadly Nightshade.  There are many medicinal uses as well as different names which you all would have known by now had you paid attention to Tuesday's homework assignment.  Some know it as the Devil's Herb, Naughty Man's cherries, Dwayberry, Great Morel, and many others.  

"The deadly nightshade has become a rare ingredient of late.  It is very hard to come by and we are all lucky to have these baskets of roots and flowers for our class today.  I ordered it at the beginning of the summer and received it only last week."

"We don't grow it in the greenhouse?" asked a timid Miss Mae.

"No, we don't grow this plant here anymore.  It is very difficult to cultivate and it grows only in certain areas.  It is usually confined to calcareous soils and is more likely to develop the highest percentage of alkaloid when grown properly.  Therefore, farmers of the southern countries benefit well from the farming of this plant.  Of course, with Professor Sprout's skills and knowledge with herbs and plants it is possible to cultivate the plant here at Hogwarts, but the Ministry has forbidden the fostering of this plant where it is not naturally grown for various reasons."

"Various reasons?" inquired a curious student.

"What makes it so poisonous?" Miss Mae asked again.

"And the alkaloid," asked another student, "is that what makes this plant so important?"

"Okay, slow down," Hermione said gratefully, "one at a time."  She guessed her 'little' speech was paying off after all.  "Yes," she continued, "it is one of the reasons this plant is very useful.  The medicinal properties of the Belladonna depend on the hyoscyamine and atropine present in this plant.  Hyoscyamine is a poisonous crystalline alkaloid and atropine is the racemic mixture of this alkaloid.  That is why the farming of these plants in the right places is essential because when grown properly it develops a high percentage of alkaloid.

"The Belladonna is the source ingredient in many if not most ocular potions.  The atropine dilates the pupil and will have this effect no matter how one uses it.  The Nightshade is the most valuable plant in the treatment of eye diseases.  Can someone tell me the other medicinal uses of this plant?  Think back to your assignments for Tuesday night.  What do you remember this plant to be used for?"

After a moment of hesitation a few students reluctantly yet eagerly, she noticed, raised their hands.

"Mr. Adams!"

"I remember it being used as a narcotic or sedative, Professor."

"Good, what else can you tell me?"

"Well, it is also," his voice began to wane, "I mean it has been used as a diuretic--t-to increase urine dis…charge."  This extracted a series of loud exclamations from the class.

"Eww, nasty!" said one Slytherin.

"For gods sake, Adams" said another, "it's barely even noon and you're already on about urine discharge."

"Yeah, what is it with you and bodily fluid," remarked Lydia Bird.

Despite all the complaints, it seemed to Hermione that the class was still surprisingly entertained. She had grasped the interest of her students and they were, as far as she could tell, paying attention. 

"Urinal discharge, Professor?" drawled Miss Grey.  "I thought we were supposed to be learning about '_the correct ways to stir a potion'," _she said with forced simplicity. 

"You can't brew a potion, Miss Grey, if you don't know what you're brewing it for.  Had you a urinal infection, you could, in your own time and discretion brew your own potion to heal the infectivity.  It would save you a lot of time and humiliation.  Wouldn't you agree?"  

This was a very shrewd hit.  Hermione had learned the previous year that Miss Grey had somewhat of a bladder infection.  She was asked by Poppy to brew a specific potion that called for the very same plant.

Miss Grey as well as a few others understood then that she was not the only one who dared to be irritatingly caustic.

The rest of the class went fairly well, Hermione thought.  She was sure her students left learning at least one thing about the plant.  She had covered enough on it to turn any of them into skilled criminals.  She only hoped they would not get any ideas.  She was sure the farming and growing of the plant was banned by the Ministry for a reason.

"Don't forget the quiz next week," Hermione called out as her students absconded from the class.  She was stowing her notes away when the soft clearing of a throat started her.  Hermione looked up to see Miss Mae standing shyly at the head of her desk with her hands folded demurely behind her.

"Can I help you, Miss Mae?"

After shifting her weight a few times, Ehlaan, speaking with reserve, mustered up the courage to ask for help.  "I-I was wondering, Professor, since, potions-making is not…really one of my fortes, if you, I mean, if you have the time—you could help me after class or break, or even at night—tonight maybe to be better at it, you know, like a r-remedial Potions.  It's my last year and I want to be as good as I can be," she said this quickly.

"Tonight?  Tonight's not really a good time, Miss Mae."

"Oh!" she said quickly as she turned to run out of class.  "It's okay then."

"Miss Mae, wait!  I want to help you.  I'm glad you came to me for help."

"But you said--"

"Tonight's not a good time, Ehlaana," she said abandoning all formalities, "because we're throwing a going-away party for Madame Pince.  She's going on family leave and won't be back for 6 months.  I have to be there tonight, you see."

"Oh," Ehlaana said relieved.  "Okay, then whenever you have time.  But if you could be discreet, Professor--"

"If you want," came a guttural voice, "I could help you."  Hermione and Ehlaana turned quickly towards the source of the voice.  Nicolas was standing beneath the doorway, listening to their conversation.   "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop.  But I'm not doing anything tonight or this weekend.  I would love to help you or be your study partner if you'd like, and maybe in return you could show me around the castle and help me find my way around.  If you'd like, of course."

"Well, that's a great idea, Mr. Thierry.  I'm sure Ehlaana would love for you to help her."  Ehlaana did not say anything or look at either Hermione or Nicolas.  She was flushing from one ear to the other.

"Miss Mae?"

"Yes, that would be good, thank you," she said hastily before she practically ran out of the dungeons.  Hermione and Nicolas exchanged a light laugh after she left.

"Thank you, Mr. Thierry.  I really appreciate this."

Nicolas placed his books on her desk as he took a seat atop one of the other desks. "It's no problem," he replied.  "I'm very fond of her."  

"Really?  How so?"

"She reminds me of my childhood friend, that's all."

Hermione and he exchanged a smile.  She was glad for Ehlaana, she guessed her student would end up with her own 'Harry' after all, even with the absence of a 'Ron'.  "Well, I'm sure she appreciates your help.  You'll find that she's a really sweet girl."

"Yes, I've no doubt.  This party tonight, is for a Madame Pince, you say?"  Hermione was slightly surprised with the sudden change of subject, but thought nothing more of it.

"Yes, she's your librarian."

"Everyone will be there?"

"Just the staff."  

"And who will keep an eye on the students?"

"We have the Head girl and boy as well as prefects.  Plus, you'll find that here at Hogwarts, no matter what you're doing, there's always someone watching."

"It's funny you say that, Professor," he smiled, "because, since I arrived here, I have always had that feeling."

"Well, that's Hogwarts for you.  How do you like it so far?"  Nicolas shifted in his seat whilst he circled his forefinger on the tip of his thumb before responding.  He seemed to be deep in thoughts while she was expecting a response from him.  "Mr. Thierry?"

"Hmm?"  Nicolas quickly looked up as her question finally registered in his mind.  "Oh, sorry; yes, it's very different from my old school.  But I'm sure I'll adjust."

"How are your classes?"

"They're fine.  I like my professors.  I've had very interesting conversations with some of them."

"Just some?"

"Well, they're not all conversationalists," he said softly.  After a moment of pondering, Hermione understood whom he was referring to.

"I see you've met Professor Snape," she said with slight bitterness. 

"He's a very singular person, I've noticed.  He's very intereseting, is he not?" 

"You'll find many interesting things here at Hogwarts, Mr. Thierry."

"Does he always make his students cringe by simply looking at them?" he asked with obvious interest. 

Hermione took a moment before replying.  She was careful to answer her new student without letting anything slip.  She did not want to give him the idea that she, like most of her students, disliked him as well.  

"I would consider that one of Professor Snape's great qualities," she said.  But his ability to make his students cringe, Mr. Thierry, is the least of your worries.  Keep to yourself, study, and stay out of trouble—

"And that would get me on his good side, I suppose?"

As if being at the top of the class and staying out of trouble would keep one from getting on Snape's bad side, Hermione assuaged the new student that it would indeed earn him the infamous professor's reverence.  It was obvious that he slightly disliked Snape and she couldn't help but notice it.  But she did not want to scare her new foreign student with Snape's mordant qualities.

"I assure you, Mr. Thierry, that Professor Snape is extremely good at his job, despite his student's opinions of him."  This was very irritating for her to say, but Hermione found herself hating Severus less and less each day.  It was due to the fact that she was slowly and willingly letting go of him.   

Nicolas could not help but notice the tautness of his Potions mistress' face as she complimented his Professor. It seemed that she also disliked the Defense against the Dark Arts professor, but he refrained from commenting on it.  

"Well, professor, I should be off.  I'll need to find Miss Mae and ask her where we should meet tonight."

"Right.  Well, you two could study in here if you'd like.  I'll be at the party and the students will be in their common rooms.  You should not be disturbed here.  I can ward the doors after you two arrive.  How's that?"

A knock sounded at the door and startled Hermione.  Remus came in and stopped at the door after he realized she was talking with her student.

Nicolas saw it as his cue to leave.  "I'm sure that'll be fine, Professor.  I'll go and find Miss Mae and tell her."

"Very well, then," she concluded.  "Good day."

Nicolas lingered for a moment before leaving.  He seemed as if he had something else to say, but when she looked up he simply smiled, nodded, and left.     

"Everything all right?" asked Remus after Nicolas was out of ear shot.

"Yes.  He's helping Ehlaana tonight with Potions. 

"Well, that's good.  Anyways, I came to tell you that Hagrid asked if you could come down to his hut today and show him how to prepare the graveweed potion.  His boarhound's taken ill and he hasn't left his hut since yesterday."  

"He's retrieved all the needed ingredients from April then, I suppose?"

"That's what he said."

"Sure.  I'll come during lunch."

"I'll go down and tell him right now, then."

Remus left Hermione's dungeons as her next class began to file in.  At lunch, just as she had informed Remus, Hermione made her way down to Hagrid's hut with a cauldron and extra ingredients just in case Hagrid forgot some.  

It was while she was walking down to Hagrid's hut that Hermione saw something strange.  Across the lawn on the high Slytherin tower on the outer niche of one its windows, perched a large grey owl.  It sat unmoved and abnormally still.  She would have thought it dead had it toppled over and off its perch.  But it remained there as if it were waiting for something to happen or someone to come.  Hermione did not realize that she had spent a great deal of time watching the owl when another thought crossed her mind.

It had never occurred to her before and she never understood why she never thought of it until now, but Hermione suddenly remembered something strange that she had seen once, a long time ago.  She had disregarded its presence countless numbers of time when she thought back to the events of that day, and now that she had thought about it-- 

"My gods, how could I have overlooked it?" she exclaimed.

She realized then that she may have been lied to again for the umpteenth time.

****************

A/N: My thanks to Severitaserum for beta-ing this chapter.  You did a wonderful job, Sarah.  I am very grateful for all your help.

And my thanks also, to those who took the time to review.  It has meant so much to me.  I enjoy writing this story very much even though it is very early in the fic.

Thank you and please review!


	10. Conversations

Chapter Ten

_Conversations_

"Aye, here he comes," said an anxious David Wilkins.

"Well?" Adam Wilson exclaimed.  "Scoot down so he can have a place to sit!"  

 "And where the hell do you expect _me_ to sit?" Wilkins retorted with a heavy brogue and a slight lisp.  

"He said, scoot down," Radcliffe intervened, "not change seats.  Now, get a flamin' move on, he's coming." 

After a few harsh execrations, Daniel managed to make three other people, who were seated next to him, move down.  

The boys at the Gryffindor table were in a bit of a strop during lunch as they attempted to get the 'new kid' to come and sit with them.  Nicolas' little row with Stephen French earlier in Potions had earned him the respect of the Gryffindor boys.  Surely anyone who could make French look like a brainless tosser in front of the entire Slytherin/Gryffindor seventh years was worthy enough to sit with them.  The incident, though insignificant, had spread quickly throughout the school.  The professors had also heard an offshoot version of what happened. 

Nicolas walked into a rather boisterous Great Hall during lunch.  He was slightly late due to his quick stop at the library.  The students turned to look at him as he passed.  The girls would giggle and whisper amongst themselves if he happened to look their way.  Nicolas figured the incident between him and French might have had something to do with the staring and the whispering, despite the fact that he was also the new student.  The abrupt halt in conversation as he walked into the Great Hall was nothing new to him.  It was hard to believe that the large crowd could be so easily entertained by such a minor occurrence.  He noticed a familiar face from the middle of the Gryffindor table trying desperately to wave him down.  He remembered the Gryffindor as Adam Wilson.  

"Okay, he saw us," said Wilkins.  "I'm sure he'll come and sit with us."  The look of glee on the boys' face changed quickly to disappointment when Thierry did not make it all the way down to their side of the table.  Nicolas had instead stopped at the center of the hall, just behind-

"Mae!" Adam exclaimed.  "What the hell could he want with her?"

"Shut up, you wanker, or he'll hear you!" his best friend, Daniel scolded.  

"Well, what's he doing?  Didn't he see us waving him down?"

"Probably not; get up and do it again!"

Nicolas stood silently behind Ehlaana Mae and watched her prick the purple lettuces off her salad and into her bowl of soup.  He found it strangely amusing, if not odd.  The noise in the hall changed into murmurs almost as soon as he had stopped behind her seat.  Every student at their table noticed them; everyone, that is, except for Ehlaana.

Nicolas startled Ehlaana when he tapped her lightly on the shoulders.  She turned slightly, saw his face, and turned back to her plate.  She was sure the foreign student had mistaken her for someone else.  She ignored him and resumed poking at her lettuces, only with slightly more force than before. 

"Miss Mae," Nicolas whispered when she ignored his presence.  

Ehlaana looked up again only glimpsing at him quickly while she looked around for someone to call out to him and explain that he had made a mistake and was talking to the wrong person.  But the fact that he whispered "Miss Mae" and not someone else registered quickly in her head.

"Can I sit next to you?" Nicolas asked after a long moment of silence.  He pointed to both empty seats next to her as he waited for a reply.  He decided to take a seat anyways when he figured that she was not going to respond.  

Ehlaana looked utterly dumfounded.  She was unsure of his reasons for coming up to her**,** let alone wanting to sit next to her.  She stared at him in disbelief-her dropped jaw being a proof of that.

"What are you eating?" he asked coolly.    

Ehlaana remained silent.

Nicolas took her bowl of soup and picked out the leaves of purple lettuce that were floating in it and placed them on another plate.  "I see you don't like lettuce.  You shouldn't waste your soup, though.  Here!"  He pushed her plate of salad aside and placed the bowl of soup in front of her with a spoon in her hand.  

Ehlaana couldn't decide what was more unbelievable: the foreign student practically feeding her her soup or the looks of disbelief on her classmates' faces when he placed it in front of her.  If she could have counted the number of jaws that dropped on the table at that moment, it would have probably made her a damn happy woman.  For the moment, nothing but hot air escaped Ehlaana's mouth, which was so far apart, one could run a train through it.  She stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Nicolas whilst he spoke about soups.  She was too busy contemplating on his reasons for talking to her to pay heed to anything he was saying.  

"You know, I make great Bouillon," said Nicolas softly as he reached for another bowl of soup.  "If you are uncomfortable with my sitting here with you, I will change seats."  Nicolas could have gone on talking to himself but he felt slightly inclined to make sure that Ehlaana did not oppose to his sitting next to her; it would have been rather embarrassing if she did.  

"A-ah--"

"I wanted to know you a little better.  I thought I would sit with you if you didn't mind.  It's a good thing these seats were empty today."

"They're empty everyday."  Ehlaana made her first contribution to the conversation without much enthusiasm.  

"I'm sorry?"

"The seats," said Ehlaana timidly.  "They're always empty."

"Well, with your permission, I would like to make them _unempty_from now on," he said civilly with a mischievous smile.  This elicited the first smile Nicolas had seen on his new friend's face.

"What do you want?" she inquired.  The question slipped out sometime between when she averted her eyes from his deep, grey ones to when she resumed staring holes into her meal.

Nicolas did not respond, hoping she would turn to look at him, but to his displeasure, she seemed to find more interest on the designs of her soup bowl than in him.    

"I want to be your friend," he replied decorously.  He heard a sort of grunt from her that he figured should have been a laugh.  "Is that too absurd?"

"I think that that would be an understatement."

"Well, I don't.  We could sit together during meals and as often as we can during class.  I can help you with Potions and you can tell me more about your school and even show me around."

"I don't mind showing you around, but you don't have to sit with me anywhere in return.  Besides, I think the Quidditch team wants you to come and sit with them."  Nicolas and Ehlaana both glanced down at the head of the table to see the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team staring at them in disbelief.

"Are you worried that people will talk about you?" 

"Worried?  I've been here for six years.  There's nothing they can say now that they haven't said in the previous years.  They've all run out of nasty comments to torment me.  Well, all except Snape," she said fearfully.  "I always hoped every year that he would run out of harsh criticisms to throw in my face, but every year they just get worse and worse.  Sometimes I wonder if he secretly spends all his time in his quarters coming up with spiteful remarks just to make my life miserable."

Ehlaana's comment caused Nicolas to laugh hysterically.  "You are probably the oddest if not the most paranoid person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"I'm not paranoid.  Ask anyone here; just mention Snape's name and it will immediately draw their attention or elicit a shudder.  The man's horrible."

"He seems singular enough, but if you want I could protect you from him."

"What do you mean?" Ehlaana asked.  She looked frightened but Nicolas noticed a bit of hope in her voice.

"Well, I could hex him right now if you'd like me to," he said with mock solemnity.  Ehlaana rolled her eyes immediately whilst she turned her head to smile.  "Look," Nicolas said softly, "our Potions Mistress has given us permission to use her dungeons tonight.  I'll help you then in both Potions and Defense against the Dark Arts.  What do you say?"

Ehlaana took a moment to stare at the foreign student and try to figure out if he had any other hidden motives for befriending her.  All she could make from his face was that it was a beautiful one.  His smile was very distracting and his eyes were too deep to look at too long.  She was afraid he'd be able to read her thoughts if she were to stare into his eyes.  Ehlaana quickly dismissed the absurd thoughts forming in her head and agreed to their meeting in the Potions dungeons that night.

"All right."

"Great.  Now let's eat our soup before we're due back in class.  I seem to have missed nearly half of lunch," Nicolas stated as he tasted a bit of his cold soup.

"Where did you go?" 

"Hmm?  Oh, nowhere.  I just made a quick stop at the library."  Ehlaana left it at that and resumed eating the bowl of soup Nicolas had placed before her.  She felt her face flush when she felt the numerous pairs of eyes staring at her from all around.  She wasn't used to this kind of attention.   She didn't like it either and found it very uncomfortable.  She started to feel anxious and very nervous until Nicolas glanced at her from the side and smiled.  It was very reassuring and she found more comfort in his smile than in anything else that she had.  She had a feeling that things were finally going to look up for her.  Even the thought of Snape did not scare her so much.

_________

"What are you smiling about?" Remus asked Hermione as they walked back to their classes after lunch.  Remus took her hand and detained it in his large ones.  The smile on her face touched the inner regions of his heart.  He couldn't remember the last time he saw a genuine smile on her face.  This caused him to kiss her arm as they walked.  Hermione blushed slightly before yanking her hand from his.

"Oh, stop it, Remus!"  Remus only smiled as he attempted to clutch her hand in his again which only caused Hermione to smile more.  He did not care that the students walking by were watching them, but the fact that he was acting like a love-sick puppy did not scare the students as much as the sight of their Potions Mistress smiling.  

"So, tell me!  What's with you?  You've been smiling since you left the Great Hall."  

"Is it a crime for me to smile, Remus?" Hermione inquired matter-of-factly.

"Only, my dear woman, if you don't tell me the reason."  

"Well, for all your prying, it's really nothing.  I'm just really happy for Ehlaana, that's all."

"Miss Mae?  Why?"

"Why?  Didn't you see her and Mr. Thierry talking during lunch?  He sat with her and made her laugh.  He even volunteered to help her out tonight with a few Potions lessons.  I think he fancies her."  Remus laughed and expressed amusement at what he realized had managed to put a smile on Hermione's face.

"Is that what's got you smiling the sun into a fervor?"

"I had always hoped things would turn up for her.  She's such a sweet girl, Remus.  She deserves all the friends she could get."

"It's a pity she doesn't have much."

"Well, she has one now, and frankly, I would rather have one friend like Mr. Thierry then a hundred friends like--

"-Who?" Remus inquired hastily.

"-Like you," she mocked.  Remus stopped her when they arrived at the meeting point.  He put on the most serious look he could mask and made sure that he got her full attention.

"You're lucky if you ever found a friend like me," he said with mock arrogance.

The smile on Hermione's face quickly disappeared as it was replaced by the harsh lines that usually bracketed her mouth.  "I'm very grateful for you, Remus," she said seriously.  "I know I've been really awful to you and to everyone else, but I was going through some things at the time and, well - you know I appreciate you, don't you?" 

"Hey, you're starting to look solemn again.  Where's that smile I saw just a moment ago?"

"Remus, I'm trying to apologize for being so horrible to you."

"Well, there's no need to.  I know what you were going through," he whispered.  "Now, let me see that smile that I might have imagined."  Hermione's face hardened. She wondered if she heard correctly.  _Did Remus just say that he knew what she was going through?_  She was unsure of what he meant by that exactly.  

"What do you mean, you knew--"

"You need to get back to class.  I'll talk to you later."  Remus kissed Hermione gently on the hand and smiled mischievously before heading the opposite way.

He could only imagine the look on her face as she watched him walk away.  

*******

A/N:  Thank you, Sarah, from the bottom of my heart for beta-reading my nasty work.  I really appreciate your help and advice.  Thank you, also to everyone following this fic; it gives me such a boost to see your comments and critiques :P  They shape and inspire me to write, despite my dawdling and slow updates!


	11. Defense against the Dark Arse

Chapter Eleven

_Defense against the Dark Arse_

Ehlaana Mae found herself enjoying the company of Nicolas Thierry as they walked back to their Defense against the Dark Arts class after lunch.  Students crowded in the corridors as they waited for Snape to arrive and unward the doors.   There was whispering and staring when Ehlaana and Nicolas were seen standing alone in the corner, poised in chatty conversation.  The pair seemed oblivious to those around them as if the students were large wall-statues and their whisperings, a mere zephyr. ****

Nicolas made sure that Ehlaana was too occupied in their conversation to notice the other students staring at them or the audible remarks they whispered amongst themselves.  He flattered her and made her laugh to keep her mind off the others.  Ehlaana was not so inattentive as to be oblivious of his attempts to distract her.

"I know what you're doing," she said coyly.

"And what am I doing?" he replied slyly as he shifted his shoulders slightly.  She noticed that he shifted them often.  A bad habit probably, she thought.  Nicolas fitted his back comfortably into the hard, stone walls, his brows furrowed as he attempted to seem ignorant of her accurate observation. 

"I'm fine, you know," said Ehlaana as calmly as she could.  "I've always had someone talking about me or saying something moronic; the only difference now is that it's more than one person at a time."  Nicolas remained silent as she spoke, although the half-formed smile on his face made his expression slightly perplexing.  He was about to reply to her comment when they were interrupted by a familiar voice.  

"Stop your dawdling and get into the classroom!"  Snape's voice cracked like a whip and its affect on his students was of a similar effect.  No one wasted time filing into the classroom and finding their seats.  Some rummaged hastily for their textbooks and quills before taking their seats.   

Nothing should go wrong with their class that day, for Snape was without a doubt, in a foul disposition.

  
Snape swept gloriously into his class and immediately divided his students into pairs.  He briefly gave instructions on the lesson that day and the notes they were to memorize and copy onto their parchments.  He returned to his seat and remained completely still if silent for nearly half of the class. 

His behavior of late, or for the past few days to be more precise, was indeed peculiar, and every student in class noticed it.  Snape's constant rebuking and endless stings of bitter-nasty remarks that usually pervaded the quiet room was somewhat. lacking.  With his back rigidly straight, and arms folded smartly over his chest, Snape seemed almost dead in his seat were it not for the infinitesimal shifting of his large, black eyes.  His unusual behavior was most chilling if not daunting for his students.  They would rather have a bitchy, moody Snape than an odd, immobile Snape any day. 

"Put your parchments away!" Snape exclaimed over the quiet room.  His loud voice came so sudden that a few students started in their seats.  Snape had been so quiet throughout half of the class that they thought he had turned mute.  He stood up and walked to the front of his desk with his trademark sneer in place.  He leaned back on the edge of his desk and sat down quietly while his students quickly pushed their parchments to the side and stared unblinkingly at their Defense against the Dark Arts professor.

"Miss Mae!" Snape articulated over the silence.  Ehlaana, shaking in her seat, was only too sure that her name would be the first thing out of her professor's caustic mouth.  She looked up courageously and responded to Snape's call.

"Yes, Professor?"  Her voice was unexpectedly fluent and she felt her blood rush to her face when she figured that Snape had noticed it also.

"Get up, Miss Mae," said Snape almost casually.  Ehlaana got up, mustered all the strength she had or didn't have, and stood almost daringly in front of Snape.  She couldn't for the life of her understand what had gotten into her.  She only hoped that Snape did not notice it also.

"You are going to tell us, Miss Mae," said Snape mellifluously, "how a dark wizard would use an Opaleye to infiltrate Wizarding society; but tell us first what an Antipodean Opaleye is and where one could be found."****

With an unperturbed expression, Ehlaana cursed her professor violently in her mind before bracing herself for the worst.  

She had absolutely no idea who or what an Opaleye was or where one could be found. 

*****

"Come in, Hermione!  Come in.  It is always a pleasure to see you."  Dumbledore poured some tea into a cup and offered Hermione some as she took a seat.  She declined, feeling too anxious to get straight to the matter she had come to discuss with the Headmaster.

"I want to thank you for seeing me, Headmaster.  I know you're very busy today so I'll try and make this very quick." 

"Oh, there is no rush," Dumbledore stated.  "Minerva is after me to help her with Irma's party tonight and I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help in telling the difference between mauve and lilac tablecloths."  The Headmaster chuckled lightly before taking a sip from his tea.   

"I forgot to ask if we're required to dress formally," Hermione inquired as her face suddenly took on a solemn expression.  "I haven't owned a dress since I was 17 and those that I do have are either too small or are reeking of mothballs in my mum's attic.  I haven't any time to go and get a new one."  

"Well, I am sure any dress will do, Miss Granger.  I, myself, have been warned by Minerva to refrain from wearing my plum and orange polka-dot robe that I have worn to nearly every party I have attended since 1924.  It's slightly torn on the sleeve but it's nothing a little magic couldn't fix."

Hermione scowled as the Headmaster adroitly dismissed her problem and went on about his.  She couldn't really care less that Minerva forbade him to wear his polka-dot robe.  Frankly, she thought it would do everyone a favor if he took Minerva's advice and refrained from wearing the polka-dot garment.  She grimaced as their conversation quickly changed from dressing robes to Muggle Internet.  Half of her free period was nearly spent on discussing the topic of Albus' wardrobe.  Despite her mind-mumbling, Hermione remained silent and nodded as the Headmaster proudly discussed his collection of socks.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Headmaster, but I'm due in class in about 20 minutes-"

"Yes, I'm sorry, my dear. I understand that you have a matter you wanted to discuss with me today," Albus stated.  "Is everything all right?"

"Well, I wanted to know if you had looked into the incident that occurred earlier this week with Peeves.  Minerva told me that you had already talked to Filch and to the Bloody Baron and that everything was all right.  I am sure that they told you exactly what went on down there, and yet I can't, for the life of me, understand how you can sit there so calm and unperturbed.  Doesn't it disturb you that such a horrible thing was carried out here at Hogwarts?"

"It would have indeed disturbed me, Miss Granger, had it been administered on one of our students or any living human being here in out castle or anywhere else for that matter.  Fortunately, in this case it was not, but on Peeves, a poltergeist."

"And what is the difference in that?  Ghost or not, Albus, what I saw happen down there is nothing to feel fortunate about.  I saw a poltergeist in such excruciating pain and I don't think anyone dead or alive should go through such a thing."

"Well, in that case, you are mistaken, Professor.  What you saw was a rare sight.  Like us, ghosts have their own ways of punishing or hurting each other.  I have made it very clear to each of them that reside here in this castle just as many other Headmasters have done before me, that there is a certain boundary they can not cross when concerning this matter.  The ghosts here at Hogwarts have always gotten along and I am grateful for myself and for everyone else here that they have not yet crossed this boundary, Miss Granger.  I assure you that what you saw was no more painful to Peeves than a pinch on a cheek."

Hermione sat very still and on edge as she ran the information over in her mind.  What she was hearing was slightly disappointing, yet also interesting.  She was hoping that Filch would at least get a good slap in the face, though she knew that that was asking too much.  She also wondered why she had never read much on ghosts and their lives.  This would indeed be something that she will have to look up later.  At the moment, she turned her attention back to Dumbledore and frowned as she realized that Filch had not done anything wrong.  

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that what went on down there was perfectly all right, but I will tell you now, Headmaster, that I will not allow for it to happen again.  I will bring this matter up at our next staff meeting in hopes to prevent it from ever happening again."

"That is what staff meetings are for, Professor, and I will be glad to discuss the matter in our next meeting."  Hermione nodded after a heavy silence passed.  She was debating whether she should bring another matter up with the Headmaster that had been on her mind all day.  It was rather personal and she felt slightly embarrassed to even bring it up at all.  She agreed against it when she told herself that Albus might not know anything about it.  

Hermione had decided to leave their meeting at that and head back for her dungeons when the Headmaster spoke.

"I have been meaning to ask you how our new student is doing.  He seems well liked by our other professors.  I wondered how he was doing so far in your class." 

"Oh.  Mr. Thierry is a very bright young man.  He knows much on potions and has volunteered to help Miss Mae tonight in my dungeons.  Potions is not exactly her specialty and our new student seems to admire her very much and is willing to help her as much as he can.  I am glad for the both of them.  I think that they will become the best of friends."

"That is indeed good news.  I think Miss Mae has much potential in the subject, she reminds me of our Mr. Longbottom."  ****

"Well, I doubt Miss Mae is as accident prone as Mr. Longbottom was, but they do seem to have similar qualities," Hermione stated.  "How is Neville by the way?  Have you heard anything from him?"

"Neville is in London at a University studying Biology.  He was advised that it would help him much when he decides to teach Herbology.  April is willing to hand over the responsibilities of her position to Mr. Longbottom if he decides to return to Hogwarts and become our next Herbology professor."

"Yes, majoring in Biology would indeed help him when teaching Herbology.  Who advised him to go to a Muggle University?  That was a very good advice."  Hermione stared as the Headmaster ran his brittle fingers down the handle of his tea cup.  Dumbledore smiled before adroitly shifting his eyes from her.

"It was Severus."  

**** 

Severus arched his brow as far up as it could possibly stretch and glared disdainfully at the still Miss Mae.  A dropped pin could possibly ring in everyone's ears as proof of the complete stillness and profound silence of the entire room.  Miss Mae was pitied in the hearts of all her classmates, except one.

Nicolas felt more inclined to stand up for Ehlaana and to help her get over her fear of the spiteful professor.  He could not fathom the idea that such an overgrown man could sleep at night knowing that he finds delight in bullying young, vulnerable women.

Ehlaana remained silent.

"Speak, Miss Mae!  Is it so hard?  Move the lips and rouse the tongue, or do you simply have less brains than I gave you credit for?"  Snape's patience was running out, and his anger, quickly intensified.

At first, Ehlaana had planned on producing an answer, any answer.  Severus' impatience had unfortunately prevented her from doing so.  Now, all she could do was keep herself from bawling if she weren't already a few breaths from hyperventilating.  She felt his black eyes penetrating hers and she found herself recoiling from him.  Ehlaana, and not for the first time, wished that it was someone else being tormented by Snape and not her.  Her classmates did not dare to look at Snape for fear that he would call upon them.  Snape on the other hand was too occupied with terrifying the ignorant girl standing timidly before him to care about anyone else.

"What is it, then?" Snape inquired of Ehlaana.  "Are you simply slow-witted or do you disregard me on purpose?"

"Perhaps, Professor," Nicolas stated casually, "that you are confusing inanity and self-control?"  Every pair of eyes was simultaneously drawn to the source of the voice.  Adam Wilson had credited the new student earlier for making Stephen French look like an idiot, but now he was convinced that the foreign student was completely mad and had lost his bonkers.  He made a silent prayer for his end.  He only wished that it wasn't so entertaining to see someone stand up against Snape.  It was a pity that he would pay for it dearly.  

Everyone held their breath in fear of what was about to unfold.

Severus, his eyes still set on Miss Mae, calmly unfolded his arms and stood up.  His students wondered if he had not heard what Nicolas had said for he had not yet pounced on him yet or sucked the blood from his neck.  

Severus glided towards his rebellious student and towered over the figure as if to swallow him whole.  Nicolas, calm and composed, looked straight ahead and refrained from saying anything until he was spoken to. 

"Do you have a problem with my methods of teaching, Mr. Thierry?"  Snape showed no signs of leniency as he bent his gaze down onto the seated teenager before him.  

"You seem to be a very educated man," Nicolas responded, looking straight ahead," I've no doubt that you are a qualified professor.  It's compassion that you lack, Sir."

"Compassion?" he said inimically.  "And what have I to be compassionate for.hmm?  --spoiled, uncultured, little brats who believe education is a waste of leisure time when they could be loitering in the restrooms or flying broomsticks into trees?"  

"Perhaps, then, you stumbled across the wrong profession, Sir, if that is indeed your labeled impression of all your students.  I think one should be patient and understanding when teaching.  A pedagogue who finds his students uncultured should do well to edify them."

Severus snorted at that.  If it were some other time or day, he would not have allowed anyone the chance to speak their mind, but today was different-he felt challenged, and whether he wanted to listen to his student's opinions of him or not, he didn't really seem to have much of a choice.  It wasn't everyday that he allowed himself to listen to a pupil state his ridiculous thoughts on him.  None of the other prats would have dared to do so.

"Understanding, you say; and you are qualified to make this assessment?" Snape scoffed.

"I am only giving you a different perspective-a student's perspective, Sir, just as one would lend the use of his sight to aid a blind man."  This was a shrewd and subtle hit.  Snape's unfairness and discrimination were no surprise to anyone.  He was rather narrow-minded when it came to opinions other than his own and it didn't take a new student to realize that much.  

"What you are saying then, Mr. Thierry, is that because I am unfair, lack understanding, patience, and compassion (_among other things_), I am not qualified to be a professor?"  Snape's tone was unsteady and he spoke without reserve.  He was obviously getting angry.  "Why should I be sympathetic towards those who think learning is beneath them?"  Snape referred to Ehlaana and every other student who had done poorly in his class.  "--or perhaps you all seem to think that my job is simple and that possessing these qualities would qualify _anyone_ for the job?  And because we live in a magical world, the information I dispense would somehow _magically _infuse itself into your brains?"  Snape's hand, hidden under his robes, waved about in front of him as he said this before turning suddenly on to Ehlaana.  

"Miss Mae!"  Ehlaana startled from where she stood and panicked as he turned towards her.  "Tell me!  Are you disabled, Miss Mae, that I should be sympathetic towards you?"  Ehlaana gaped as she tried desperately to answer his odd inquiry.  "Well?  Are you disabled or not?"

"N-no S-sir."

"Do you know how to read or write?"

"Yes."

"And do you have a problem, Miss Mae, learning the lessons that I teach you-lessons containing the same information that I give to your classmates?"

"N-n-no, Sir, I d-don't."

"Then why, in the name of Merlin, don't you know what an Antipodean Opaleye is?  It is right there in your book."  Snape whipped out his wand and with surprising agility and speed, directed it towards Ehlaana, and shot forth a swirling wisp of light.  Ehlaana fell back in her seat in shock as her textbook shot up in the air and flew open.  The leaves rapidly turned to the desired page Snape sought after and stopped abruptly.  There before the entire class was a small picture of an Antipodean Opaleye at the bottom left corner of page 43,magically enlarged for the class to observe.  

"Does that seem familiar to you?" Snape snapped, no longer caring to repress his anger in front of his students.  He pointed his wand toward the book, mumbled something under his breath, and directed his wand forcefully towards the blackboard.  The words from the book transferred to the board, though they seemed slightly splattered. The words were illegible as if Snape's anger had affected the magic that scrawled them.  

_A Native of __New Zealand__, the Antipodean Opaleye dwells in valleys rather than in mountains._

_With iridescent, pearly scales and glittering, pupil-less eyes, the Opaleye is one of the most beautiful dragons in the world._

_They shoot forth a vivid, scarlet flame, and are a fairly small size for dragons.  They are responsible for the kangaroo killings in the 1970's._

The writings in the text were so minute that most of the class realized that they had missed it as well.

"Did you catch that piece of information while you were doing the assigned homework?" Snape continued.  The class took Ehlaana's silence as a 'no'.   Snape turned from Ehlaana with obvious dislike and spoke loudly enough so his class would know that he was now referring to all of them.  

"If you are like Miss Mae here, and happened to miss that piece of information, then I suggest you not blame my _impatience_ for your solecism.  If I am guilty of stolidity than perhaps you should all grow up and show me that I am educating a group of students and not a horde of toddlers.  This is not a pastime and I am not here to play wand and watch my work pass through one ear and out the other.  If _compassion_ is what you seek in a professor, then perhaps _YOU are all stumbling in the wrong profession_.   You can find the Gamekeeper outside, across the lawn.  He will tell you that _compassion_ is required to tend the beasts.  I am sure you will all become _great_ Beast Masters and Gamekeepers.

"So, forgive me if I am not tolerant of your lack of consistency to keep up in my class but I despise mediocrity, and _arrogance_ most of all."  Snape turned around to face Mr. Thierry, sitting stolidly in his seat.  "-something, _you_ seem to have in spades."

Nicolas remained seated, silent, and undoubtedly indignant.  Snape had won this round so far but he did not seem to have enjoyed it, oddly.  

"You will remain after class so we can discuss your detention, Mr. Thierry."  Snape returned to his seat and sat the remaining 10 minutes of class in silence. 

He was having a horrible day. 

****


	12. Tête à têtes

Chapter Twelve

_Tête-à-têtes_

 Hermione's meeting with Albus turned out quite interesting.  Their conversation for the last 10 minutes was solely on Severus and how much he had helped several of her classmates by suggesting a few career options for each of them and also keeping track of where they were and how they were doing.  This, or course, was done in a clandestine manner.  Hermione was not particularly surprised.  For the short time that she became close with Severus, if there was one thing that she knew for a fact about him, it was his genuine concern for his students and what became of them.  What surprised Hermione was something else that Albus had said. 

"_Severus did quite a lot of work while he was away." _

Hermione did not think much of it at the moment.  She naturally assumed that Albus meant Severus did a lot of work while away on .well, now that she thought about it, she wasn't quite sure what she had thought about that statement.  She was too busy thinking of other things to pay much attention to what Albus was saying.  Most of the time Albus rambled and Hermione would remain silent whilst her mind roved away to other important things.  

_What did he mean by that? Did Severus go as far as visiting some of her classmates at where they were at or was he away somewhere else?  _Hermione made sure she would bring the matter up the next time she visits Albus in his office.  She was beginning to get very suspicious and wary of those around her.  Thrice that week she had seen or heard some very peculiar things and yet no one had bothered to explain anything to her.She figured something was going on and she was set on finding out what it was.

The bell rang as Hermione approached Remus' classroom.  The students rushed out the door and filled the corridors as they made their way to their next class.  Remus was surprised when he looked up from his desk to see Hermione standing under his doorway; he was usually the one to meet her outside her classroom.

Remus grinned as he filed his parchments into the drawers.  Hermione stood silently under the doorway as she watched Remus playfully ignore her.

"You're enjoying this**, **aren't you?" said Hermione.

"What -- seeing you loitering under my doorway?  No, of course, not!" he teased.  "What's the matter?" he asked innocently.

"You know why I'm here, Remus."  Hermione made her way to his desk and Remus detained her in his arms as if she were the love of his life.  He loved doing that to her-playing her lover and hopeless romantic.  It drove her mad.  

"Of course, I know why you're here.  You couldn't get enough of me so you came down to-"

"Remus!"

"Oh, all right.  Why are you here?  And hurry, my next class is filing in."

"Remus, you said something earlier.  You said you knew everything that was going on -- what did you mean by that?"

"What?  Oh, you're not still worrying about that are you?  Well, don't-listen, I need to talk to you tonight, if it's all right."

"Tonight's Irma's party; did you forget?"

"No, but I can talk to you, then."

"Is anything wrong?  Why is everyone acting so strange, Remus?  Is something going on that I don't know about?"  

"No, you worry too much.  Go now, before you're late for your next class."  Remus shooed Hermione out of his class, and she left feeling even more confused and in the dark.  

Hermione was now more than certain that something strange was going on and she wasn't going to rest until she figured out what it was.

**** 

Severus waited until all his students were gone before closing the door and warding it from any interruption.  He wanted to make sure that no one was going to disrupt Nicolas' chastisement.  He stood rigidly at his desk, slamming parchments and books into drawers and knocking things out of place.  

Nicolas knew without a doubt that Snape was enraged with his behavior in class.  He was only too curious as to how his lecture was going to play out.  Snape looked so livid that Nicolas wondered if he would explode if he spoke at all.  

Nicolas stirred in his seat and dared to speak as if he was anxious to rile Severus up.  "I have Astronomy next; if you could give me my detention, I will be out of your way--"

"DAMN IT, NICOLAS!  I asked you not to fool around in my class."  The parchments Snape clutched tightly flew out of his hands and onto the floor.  He had tried desperately to contain himself but the recollection of his last class returned with a vengeance and drove him mad out of his mind.  "How dare you disrespect me in my classroom?"a

"I admit I was a bit atrocious," Nicolas drawled impishly, "but I swear to you that my raison d'être was exemplary."  Livid and mildly chagrined, Snape contemplated if the boy was finding amusement in his anger.  

"Do not make a mockery of me!  I don't have time to put up with your paradoxical behavior, Nicolas." ****

"Oh, is that what you think is wrong with me?  First, I was disrespectful, and now I'm unstable.  You really should make up your mind about what you think about me.  Well, there's no need to fret, I was merely helping a friend.  You remember her- she was the only person you paid any attention to.  The poor thing; I pitied her for that," Nicolas added with assumed indifference.  

"How glorifying of you," Snape said condescendingly, "but you're not God and I'm not going to allow you to play savior to _my_ students." 

"Well, you _need_ someone _open-minded_ in your class."

"Who I choose to condemn in _my_ classroom is my decision," Snape snapped.  "When you step into this room, you will abide by my rules and learn to obey me as everyone else.  In case you have forgotten, I am the professor here and I would appreciate it you left the teaching and criticizing to me."  

"You never look to the others," Nicolas admonished, his French accent more evident than before.  "You scare the wits out of your students that they're too busy fearing you to pay attention to your lessons, and for someone with a surfeit of _dull-witted_ pupils, you seem incapable of recognizing more than one."

"I am hard on that blasted girl because no one else is; why do you think she is slow and careless and inattentive.  I don't have room for daydreamers in my class.  And I would appreciate it if you would not tell me how to do my job," Snape spat.

"You don't teach; you terrorize and discourage.  I despise you as a teacher."

"Well, congratulations, Nicolas, you are not alone in your feelings, but that doesn't excuse your reckless behavior today.  I specifically asked you to keep your opinions about me and my work to yourself when you are in my classroom, but you jumped at the first chance to criticize my teaching and cared less about what I had asked you to do."

"What are _you_ angry about?" Nicolas snapped.  "You succeeded in humiliating me in front of my classmates and making me look like a complete idiot.  What more do you want?"

"I want you to listen to me very carefully.  Your impression of me is no secret.  Feel free to berate me with your complaints and empty death threats when no one is around, but so long as you are my student and in my classroom or reside here at Hogwarts, you are going to respect me, listen to me, and for the love of Merlin, at least _pretend_ to fear me.  If you want to avoid another embarrassing ordeal like today's from happening again, I suggest you listen to what I tell you and keep in mind that opposing me will only further your humiliation.  I warned you that I would not be so lenient of your remarks in my classroom.  I only hope that today's incident was proof enough of that."

"The only thing that you have proven to me today is that you are as horrible a person as you are a father."  This was said with sheer impassiveness and it hit Severus hard in the heart.  He knew without a doubt that he was not the world's greatest father, but damn the boy if he was too angry and hateful to notice his attempts at trying.  It wasn't easy making someone care for him, especially when that person abhorred him above all else.

*****

Please Review!

Thank you, Sarah, for beta-reading this chapter.  


	13. An Unfortunate Event

Chapter Thirteen

_An Unfortunate Event_

The cerulean clock on the mantelpiece chimed softly at 7:00, startling Hermione as she was leaving her office.  She was late and should have been at Irma's party by now.  Remus had stopped by her dungeons to walk her up to the Great Hall, but half way there, Hermione remembered Nicolas and Ehlaana's tutoring lesson and had to turn back to wait for the pair.  She wondered if it was a good idea to leave the two alone in the dungeons without supervision.  That they were both seventh-years did not change the fact they were also teenagers.  Hermione only hoped that Nicolas and Ehlaana would behave as she trusted them to and decided that it was best if she left the party early to check on them.

The sound of laughter, chatting, and mirth was muffled through the large doors of the Great Hall.  Hermione felt the pit of her stomach knot up as she neared the entrance.  She wished she had not paid heed to her reflection's insisting that she hang her hair and brush a bit of stardust on for the party.  Her fastidious reflection, whom she had come to call Mirra, had won the row they had in her bathroom when Hermione coincidentally dropped the hairbrush she held in her hand whilst she admonished the reflection for her constant complaints and unwarranted remarks about her hair and weight.  The loud clink against the mirror pane startled the reflection that she thought it to be intentional and harsh.  Hermione felt so wretched about the accident that she gave in and decided to wear her hair proper as well as putting a bit of blush and gloss on.

She regretted it now when she reached outside the Great Hall.  She couldn't stand the thought of being seen by her colleagues all dressed up and pretty.  It was rather embarrassing.  She wished now that she had not listened to her belittling reflection.****

Hermione walked into the boisterous hall to find it beautifully decorated.  The four tables, laden with trays of food and drinks, were set against the sidewalls.  The floating candles were shaped like bookmarks, and some were magically charmed to flicker a green and gold color.  There was a large throne-like chair, undoubtedly charmed, in the shape of an open book, sitting in the front center of the hall.  Irma and all her dourness, occupied this seat with an expression of madness, and sulked whenever someone came near her.

Dumbledore, less the polka-dot robes, thankfully, was chatting cheerfully with Remus and Sinistra by the long tables.  Minerva, April, Viola, and Hagrid were not too far from them as well.  Everyone was scattered around the Great Hall and seemed very well occupied.  

No one appeared to notice Hermione when she walked in.  She was grateful for that.  She contemplated on whether she should join her colleagues and endure their staring, grins, and queries about her look tonight or just simply sneak off to the corner somewhere and blend in with one of the party statues Minerva put together.  

Hermione's stomach rumbled when she spotted a few tasty entrées.  She didn't eat too much that day and was feeling slightly woozy because of it.  She now had no choice but to get something to eat.  Hermione was about to join her colleagues when someone came up from behind her and offered her a glass of bubbly.  

Snape held the drink out in front of her, hoping that she would accept it from him.

Incredulous, Hermione stared at Snape as he glanced quickly at the drink he offered her.  After an awkward moment passed between them, Hermione took the drink and continued to shift her glances between the walls and Snape.  He seemed calm and tolerant for a change; Hermione was going mad trying to figure out what he was doing.  As if she needed any more tension, she felt more awkward by the moment.  

Snape did not walk away from her nor did he speak to her.  He remained silent and would occasionally glance at her and catch her doing the same.  She felt like a little girl all over again.  She kept wondering if he would ever speak and what he would say first, or if he was thinking about the way she looked that night, and what he thought about it.  Whether she hated him or not, she could not prevent these thoughts from forming in her head.

Hermione startled from her stupor when Snape spoke.

"You look pale.  You should take a drink and get something to eat," he stated.  His tone was neither indifferent nor concerned.  He glanced at her once whilst he spoke.  

Hermione resumed staring and did not care if he noticed.  She did not know what to say to him or if she should respond at all.  She wondered if it would come out rude or too pleasant.  She did not want to sound like either.  Snape turned to look at her while these thoughts floated in her head.  He did not look away and she saw something in his eyes that she had not seen in a long time: a twinkle.  They did not look creased and stern as if they were only capable of glaring and making people feel inferior or small.  

He glanced at her as if his eyes were smiling covertly at her.  The infinitesimal shifting of his eyes across her face told her he was studying her.  She was discomfited and shuddered inwardly, yet she could not keep herself from looking at him.  They were in surprisingly close proximity of one another and were unsure whether to yield to such propinquity.  

_What are you doing?  _Hermione decided it was best if she spoke her mind when Snape's eyes lingered on her still.  She stopped when he looked away from her.  Without saying a word, he walked away from her and towards the direction of Dumbledore and Remus.  

Hermione was confused.  She wondered if he did that intentionally just to irk her.  _Why does he do this?_ Hermione liked to think that she could walk right by the man or look at him and not feel a single thing.  She wanted to believe that she could look at Snape and see him as she used to see him before she loved him.  _Loved? _ _For god's sake you were only seventeen; that wasn't love! _ Heated, Hermione was convinced that Snape was still just as she expected—a bastard!

Hermione was disappointed.  She didn't know why, but she was.  What was that all about?  And why on earth did he just walk away?  She convinced herself that it wasn't worth contemplating over.  He wasn't an important part of her life anymore.  She'd moved on and she was glad.  Was she? ****

"Here."  Hermione looked up to see a small plate of hors d'oeuvres before her.  

Snape had gone to get her some food.  He noticed from her pallid face that she was not eating well.  _She needs sunlight._

Hermione felt a sense of weirdness take over her again.  'He went to get me some food,' she thought.  She felt slightly guilty for her thoughts earlier.  _What?  No, I don't.  After all the shit you put me through.  You deserve to be buried in a pyre!  One night of pleasantness isn't going to change my opinion of you! _ _No!  It's not_.  These thoughts kept turning in her head, as if she were trying to convince herself that it was true.  She wasn't going to yield to his artifices.  

_But why is he being so odd? _Perhaps _odd_ wasn't as accurate as _nice_ …but then, again, _Snape_ and _nice_ were equivalent to the term _odd_.

Hermione took the plate without rancor and without thanks.  

Severus accepted her behavior.  He was perhaps grateful that she took it at all, and even more, that she did not spit on him and ignore him completely.  _Say something!_

"If you don't want the hors d'oeuvres--"

"If you think that I am in the least bit _moved_ by your _newfound_ amiability, you're in for a surprise.  One night of pleasantness isn't going to make up for your years of insufferable behavior.  I'm capable of taking care of myself, Professor; thank you, very much.  Now, if you'll excuse me--" 

Hermione made to leave but was held back by Severus.  He quickly removed his hand from hers, but not before it brushed her palm gently.  She shuddered and he felt it through the tips of his fingers.  

"What are you doing?" she asked apprehensively.  "What do you want from me?"

Severus' face quickly took on another form.  He no longer seemed confident as he did earlier. The mounds above his brows were evidently lower than usual, giving him the impression of a timid child in chastisement. 

Severus had been picturing this moment—these exact questions—for a very long time.  He had practiced every night for the past several years what he would say exactly and how to look calm and composed and slightly remorseful.  He also learned how to control his breathing while speaking (which proved a difficult task). This and everything else he learned flew out the window at that very moment.  

He expected the questions; he pictured the various settings; he also anticipated her anger, but he did not anticipate her face and the pain and sorrow that projected from it.  He did not realize that practicing with his reflection or imaginary Hermione was not in the least bit similar to speaking to her in person.  The hurt in her eyes was equivalent to the effect of the _Cruciatus_ curse.  His heart writhed in pain, and his emotions, unstable and unrestrained, rushed forward to the inner regions of his soul and moved him to shame and sorrow.  

Severus was reminded of the morning he did the unthinkable.  He contemplated whether he should go through with his plan.  He was not worthy of her and did not deserve her.  But whoever said he was altruistic?  Severus was a far cry from being righteous.  He was selfish and inconsiderate and wanted her to himself.  But this seemed more impossible by the moment.  

He had been gathering courage all week to do this right, and now it proved just as he suspected: a good waste of time.  He might have come off too confident, when the truth of the matter was, he was anything but.  He did not want to seem anxious so as scare her off.  He figured that she would not be _happy_ at all with his _impeccable_ timing and his sudden change of behavior.  Perhaps he should have been more subtle and not spoken to her at all, tonight.  No!  He was growing impatient and his feelings for her were only intensifying by the day, to his dislike.  _Why couldn't you grow out of love like every other normal person? _

Now, all his nights of practiced duologue and emotions were brought down to a simple question:  _What do you want from me?  _

_What did he want from her?  _He wanted to be with her and to love her.  He needed her forgiveness and her friendship.  He wanted her to understand his reasons for deceiving and abandoning her, and not trusting their love and believing that it could overcome anything.  He wanted her to know that he was not worthy of her love or friendship—that he was desperately in love with her.  _What did he want from her?_  Severus Snape wanted too many things—things he knew he could not possibly have.  So how to express his feelings in as little words possible?  It was not quite possible at all, so he settled for the sincerest response he felt in his heart.

"I'm sorry."  

There it was.  Two words he did not plan on conveying.  It was by far the most passionate and sorrowfully poignant two words to escape his lips.  So much emotions and effort and guilt were evident in his lugubrious eyes.   Those eyes: the most vicious feature of his face -- more dangerous than his forked and vile tongue, created for the vilification of the human self-esteem.  It had both the power to destroy and to enrapture.  

Hermione was stirred.  She could no longer avoid the evident plea for forgiveness.  She was simply and truly moved—where to, she had not quite grasped.  Tears filled her mascara-laden eyes as she was overcome with mixed and damned emotions.  _How was she to respond?_  She was certain what he was sorry for.  The years of cruelty and unpleasantness, all the spiteful and hurtful things he has ever said to her.  And most of all—she was sure that he was sorry for that _morning after_: the morning he took his love from her and her ability to love as well.  _How was she to respond?_

She saw fear in his eyes -- beautiful, delicious fear, oozing from its depths.  He had been reduced to a hopeless man asking forgiveness he knew was not likely to be given.  This was a big risk for Severus Snape, the intolerable.  She had him in the palm of her hands, and it was now her decision to decide his fate.

Whether she would shatter his ego or accept his apology, Severus did not know.  For a moment, he saw pity in her eyes.  She looked upon him as a man also in pain.  He expected to be strangled and cursed to his death, but all he received were tears--and he was hopeful for a moment, until she spoke.  ****

"And this is your act of contrition?"  Hermione laughed.  Her tear-stained face changed instantly to wonder.  Her laughter was a mixture of incredulity and malice.  "_I'm sorry!"_ she reiterated.  "You cause me years of pain and disparagement and all you could say is '_I'm sorry'?_  

Severus remained silent; his heart had stopped.

"You are not sorry," Hermione spat.

"I may seem petulant and stoical at times, but it is who I am and what I have become."

"Seem?" Hermione inquired sardonically.  

Severus paused for a moment when that statement caught him off guard.  "We all have our reasons for our actions and you can not begin to understand mine.  I came to offer you my… apology.  Whether you choose to accept it is up to you."  

"Children are sorry; excuses are sorry; sinners are sorry and capable of repentance; there are many things in this world that are _sorry_, but you Severus Snape, are a far cry from that emotion.  Are you even capable of such a thing?"  Hermione adroitly set him up for what he did not see coming.

"I'm capable of more feelings that simply being rueful, especially tonight."   

"Really?  Tell me, then_, 'why _anyone would waste such feelings on an insufferable _nuisance_ such as _myself__'_?"  These very words he uttered to her at the station so long ago had finally come back to break him.  He realized what she had been doing all along: she was giving him a taste of his own medicine.  

Hermione did not and would not see him as what he wanted to become.  She used his vulnerability and the opportunity to spite him for her suffering, and he realized this instantly.  

Things were not turning out as he had planned.

* * *

In the quiet and dark vastness of the corridors, leading to the dungeon, resonated an honest and mirthful laugh.  Ehlaana and Nicolas enjoyed the company of each other as they studied potions and learned more about one another.  Nicolas proved to be quite the entertainer, and shared much of his childhood experiences and memories with her.  Ehlaana learned that her mother's death was one of the few things she and Nicolas had in common.  He too had lost his mother, whom he loved above all else.  He was still devastated over her death.  

Ehlaana did not have much to share, given that her mother died giving birth to her, and her father was hardly there to be a father to her.  Nicolas cheered her up with his exceptional sense of humor.  She found out much about her friend and his character, and it enthralled her and pulled her into him.  Nicolas exuded a magic all of his own and she was charmed beyond words.  She could not imagine how lucky she was to have landed a friend as rare and unusual as Nicolas.  

She was simply in love.

They had been studying for the past three hours and covered much on Potions and Defense against the Dark Arts.  Nicolas learned that Ehlaana studied easier when relaxed and without stress.  He would have to talk to Snape about giving her more space and a lot less criticism.  He would have to visit him soon in his private quarters. 

Ehlaana grew tired and Nicolas ended their lesson for the night.  

"We've covered enough for the night.  We can continue this another time?"

 "Yes," Ehlaana agreed.  "I am a little tired."

"All right; gather your things and we will be on our way."  No sooner had Nicolas uttered these words, when Hermione walked in.  She unwarded her doors and walked in, surprised to find Nicolas and Ehlaana in her dungeons.  The events of the night had caused her to forget that they were studying in her classroom.  

"What are you two still doing here?  You should have been in bed hours ago."

"I'm sorry, Professor.  It is my fault," Nicolas apologized.  "I wanted to make sure that Ehlaana covered the basis of our quiz next week.  I completely forgot about the time."

Hermione was sure that that was not the exact reason, but she let it go for now.  

"Gather your books, then, and be off.  Take this note, in case you run into someone."  Hermione took out a quill and parchment and scribbled a note explaining Nicolas and Ehlaana's lesson.  Hermione did not want to seem rude but she was very anxious to be left alone in her dungeons.  She was tired—physically and emotionally, and needed time to reflect on the night's events and what had happened to her.  

She simply needed to cry.

Nicolas noticed the difference in his professor.  He could only guess what or who the problem was, and he had one person in mind.

Nicolas and Ehlaana were quite slow in gathering their belongings.  When they left, Hermione instantly collapsed in her chair and cried convulsively onto her desk.  It was a long and muffled cry.  She uttered no words of execration, or loud deafening curses.  She embraced herself in her arms and cried inexorable tears of grief.  She could not and would not hold back her tears.  She repressed the urge to scream at the top of her lungs: _God, why? What must I do?    _

Hermione felt soft arms embrace her and lift her up.  Caught off her guard, she found herself face to face with Thierry.  "Wha--"  She had completely forgotten to ward her doors.  She was overwhelmed and drenched in tears; she could not find any words of chastisement for Nicolas.  He smiled softly at her and took her hands in his.  He looked at her concernedly.

Instead of sending him off to his room, Hermione found herself buried in the fragrant niche of his neck.  She embraced her student with unrestrained emotion and he, in return, allowed her to cry on his shoulder.  He had no doubt as to who caused pain such as this.  Memories of his mother in a similar situation came back to him vividly.  He felt his heart tightening within him and he gritted his teeth in anger.  He remained silent whilst his professor's protracted and wordless cries seeped through the breadth of his heart.

Nicolas was the first to speak when Hermione was finally calm.  "You are weak and tired.  Tell me where your room is and I will take you there."  

Hermione was lost in her thoughts and did not catch all that Nicolas said.  It felt very good to be in his arms.  She was lulled by the comfort his body provided her.  She quickly felt herself drifting off into deep slumber.  Nicolas shook her gently and her eyes opened slightly to find his soothing stare fixed on her.  

"Thank you," she whispered.  

"Please, you are not well.  You need to be in your bed."

"Yes, of course."  Hermione walked to the back of the room and tapped her wand twice on the narrow wall of bricks adjacent to the cupboard door.  A small brick at the center of the wall changed red, and Hermione instinctively uttered the words: _revalen__ ancien pas.   _

Nicolas watched as the slightly fractured bricks smoothed out into an impeccable flat surface.  A knob was produced from the exact spot the red brick had been earlier.  Hermione turned the handle exhaustedly and walked down a long dark passage to her room.  

Concerned, Nicolas slipped past the entrance and followed after Hermione, for he did not think that she was well at all.  She forgot to ward the entrance to her room and was walking in the dead darkness of the passageway without light.  He did not know that the magical entrance closed on its own and warded its Mistress' abode against intruders.  Hermione was accustomed to the darkness and was familiar with the winding passage with or without her wand-light.  

Nicolas was lucky to have slipped by so quickly.  He would be the first person, since Hermione was given the secret room, to visit, though it was without permission.

Hermione reached the entrance to her room and muttered _Alohomora_to unlock her door.  She walked in unsteadily and collapsed onto her small sofa.  She had left the door open and had not noticed Nicolas coming in.

He took a second to glance around her private quarters and was more than certain that she was not aware of his presence.  He realized the trouble he inadvertently put himself in, but was more concerned with Hermione and the state she was in to care.

He prodded her gently, and she did not stir.  He was sure that she had fallen asleep.  Nicolas stood and watched her for a long while before deciding what best to do.  He lifted her up gently and helped her out of her dress robe.  

She seemed lifeless in his arms.  She looked very innocent in her sleep, he thought, and very young.  He had not realized how young she was until now.  Her eyes, closed, lacked the harsh lines that always accompanied it, and her lips were soft and ruddy.  He traced his fingers along the side of her face and across her lips.  He did not fear that she should wake up and find him in her room, invading her privacy, and caressing her face.

_She is young_.  Nicolas knew that now for a fact.  She was still a child and not much older than he; so consumed in grief and her past, it showed in her face, on her skin, and in her eyes.  Her façade was now uncovered.  She grew up too soon, and her misery had altered her appearance and person.  He could picture her innocence taken so abruptly from her.  And now she had become like _him: _wasting away till the chance of recovery was long but passed, and love, itself would be of no avail. 

"_Elle masquerades pour cacher sa peine," _he whispered in the gentle night. He turned to the sleeping Hermione and murmured,"Has love been unkind to you?"  Nicolas gazed at her peaceful state and wondered if it was the only time she was ever at peace.  He was in way over his head.  He kept her in his arms for a moment before laying her down to sleep.   

Nicolas walked over to the only window in the room and pondered over some thoughts that were bothering him.  Slowly, he began to realize that some answers had finally come to him.  Many things made sense to him now that did not before.  A wicked smile flitted over his face as he thought about the mischief his father had been getting into for the past years.

He glanced over at the figure on the bed and thought, '_You have been the cause of much distress.'_   

Nicolas turned his attention to the wind howling through the crevices of the lone window and stood there in thought for most of the night, before retiring on the small sofa by the hearth. 

What the following morning would bring would be a surprise to both him and Hermione.

* * *

A/N: My thanks to my super-beta, Severitaserum.  Sarah, you're such a life saver!  You deserve all the credit for this chapter. ;P

Please Review!

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